Book II Chapter II Fix through Eureka
by wanderingchat
Summary: SAMCRO confronts Zobelle & LOAN's threat to Charming's peace while running guns for the Hayes'. Cat goes on the warpath on the hosp that refused to treat Tig and confronts Zobelle on her turf. The Tragers have their first major married fight.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER**

The following is a work of fiction.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists and songwriters.

Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (aka the Dear Husband, who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me _all _my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. It's been a great fifteen years, and here's to many more!

My best friend (who lives in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. And her daughter, my 'unofficial' godchild, for the same. I'm very proud of you both.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement in this venture, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, , SOA Forever and Facebook friends who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on . Check out her SOA/Tig Story called '_Sapphires and Whiskey'_. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art, which is my avatar. I love it!

**Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager. **

**Charming Pawse **

**Book Two **

**Chapter Two **

**From Fix to Eureka **

Life continued as usual in Charming during the weeks that followed the shootout with the Mayans. The only thing that wasn't normal was Gemma's continued attempts to cope with the aftereffects of the assault and gang rape.

Tig remained watchful and grew concerned as the daily interaction between Clay and Gemma grew more tense. Gemma was increasingly nervous. Tig remained convinced that something other than a wreck had caused her injuries, even though there was an accident report from Charming PD and the Caddy was totaled by the insurance company.

Tig laid his suspicisons out to Cat over dinner one evening by asking if she'd been in contact with Gemma.

"Not since the accident. Why?"

"I don't think there was any accident," he replied. He held up his hand to stop her protest. "I know, the police says otherwise and the car was a total, but she's showing all the signs of that PTSS you told me about."

"How so, love?"

"She's jumpy; has been since it happened. I walked up behind her at the shop today and she nearly jumped out of her skin. She's irritable, and there was a major showdown between her and Clay at the studio today." He filled her in on the shouting match between the couple that had ended with Gemma erupting into a crying, shaking fit when Clay put his hands on her shoulders from behind.

Cat sat deep in thought. It certainly sounded as though Gemma was showing the signs of the PTSS she herself had endured years ago. Nervousness and irritability were two prime symptoms. 'Alex is right, a car accident wouldn't cause a person like Gemma to act out like that,' she thought. "That happened the night of Bobby's homecoming, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

'Definitely not good. Most people would be over a car accident in less time than three weeks. They certainly wouldn't still be nervous around people they know!' She shook her head, still not completely convinced. "You may be right, love, but why bring this to me? Why not talk to Clay?"

He squirmed uncomfortably.

"I see," she said quietly. "You want _me_ to talk to her, don't you? " She peered over the rim of her glasses. Her stare could be more intimidating than his when she wanted. "You hope I'll talk to her and tell you so you can tell Clay. It doesn't work that way, Alex. I'm not a trained counselor, but anything that someone tells me in confidence _**stays**_ that way."

He spread his hands in wordless apology. "Guilty, babe. I hoped you'd fill me in. But that's not the only reason I brought this up. You've dealt with that PTSS shit; I thought you might be able to help Gemma."

Cat knew he was motivated by concern for his best friend's wife and trying to help any way he could. She couldn't stay mad at him for that. "If Gemma wants to talk to me, I'll listen. The problem is, if - and I empathize '_if_' - the accident was a cover up for something else, it's up to Gemma to _want_ to talk about it. If she doesn't want to talk, nothing is going to make that happen."

Alex shook his head in disagreement. "But you sought help when you needed it. I don't get the difference."

"One, you're not a woman. Two, Gemma's situation is entirely different from mine. Three, Gemma doesn't have a family history to haunt her. Fourth, all you really have is a suspicion based on observation," she held up each finger as she listed her points.

"In other words, mind my own business."

"No. Continue to watch out _for_ her, love. Try not to sneak up on her. Give her plenty of space. You could be right, and somethin' other than a car accident happened. It may be likely that she'll find her own way back to herself without anyone's help, includin' mine."

Alex chose not to tell her of another, more sinister event that happened that day. The Nords were selling meth in Charming and had Aryan help to keep the Sons from stopping them. The group that had come to the shop the night of Bobby's homecoming was behind the muscle and sales.

Opie and Half Sack were making a reposession when they witnessed a buy and went to stop it. They met up with the Aryan muscle protecting the dealer. Tig, Chibs, Juice, and Opie later managed to catch the dealer away from his body guards. It didn't take much for hime to give up the location of the lab. Tig's boot pressed against the dealer's balls had been helpful in getting the information.

As a test, Jax told Deputy Chief Hale of the location of the meth lab, but Hale later told Jax it was bad intel. The MC had discussed the possibility that the league might've gotten to Hale, who wanted SAMCRO out of Charming. Hale didn't pass the test, so the club was going to destroy the meth lab that night. 'No reason for her to worry,' Tig told himself. 'Nothing's gonna go wrong.'

The lab was in a house near a creek, far off the main roads. The Sons' plan was to flush the cookers out of the house then set explosives around it to blow it up. That would send a message to the Nords, Hale, and to the League financing Darby's meth operation.

This was one job that actually went well. No one fired back at the Sons, the explosives were set without incident, and the meth lab was effectively destroyed. Including, they assumed, the security recordings from the cameras on the outside of the house.

When they returned to Teller Morrow, most of the guys were talking about the wrap party at Caracara. The MC was going because they were partners in the latest production.

Gemma was still in the office, she glanced at Clay and Trager standing in front of the van, and then she returned to shuffling papers.

Clay looked after her with a longing expression on his face. Several hours had passed since their face-off at Caracara. Their tempers were cooler. He wanted to be with his wife, but wasn't certain he should try.

"Talk to her, man," Tig said quietly, thinking of what Cat had told him earlier. Maybe if the two started talking, everything would clear up between them. 'I really hate it when they fight.'

Clay walked into the office, and he and Gemma did talk. At least they apologized to each other. Clay offered to stay away from the wrap party, but Gemma insisted he go.

Tig wasn't really looking forward to the wrap party, not like he would have once upon a time. It would be another blast like Bobby's party; lots of booze and broads and gratuitous sex. 'LuAnn's girls have great bodies,' he thought. 'They might give a lot of pleasure, but it's just an act to them. They really don't give a shit about me.'

The wrap party was in full swing when he and Clay arrived. The booze was flowing, a few joints permeated the air, and the actresses were in all manner and degree of dress and/or undress all over the place, delighted Sons sampling the merchandise.

He grabbed a shot of whiskey, sat on a couch, and was quickly joined by one of the actresses. She promptly engaged him in a necking session. She tasted cheap. Her perfume was cloying and overpowering, not the fresh, clean scent he was used to. He disengaged himself from her petting and took up the actress's shoe, spinning it in his hands. He wanted to go home, and was trying to figure out how to get away without a lot of attention being called to his departure. The girl soon grew tired of being ignored by Tig, and turned her attention to someone else. That was all the excuse he needed. He got up from the couch and disappeared into the night, headed home.

* * *

Tig presented Cat's partnership offer to the club two days later. She printed up a prospectus that showed the operating costs, the profits made, and her future plans for the store.

Jax looked up with surprise from the folder Tig had given each rider. "Your old lady put all this together?" he inquired, flipping through the paperwork.

'Surpised she has a brain?' Tig glared at the VP as he replied, "Yeah. She did it because she couldn't present the idea herself. She doesn't go into anything without a lot of planning and research. She's OK that the entire club would be partners."

"It's a gud shop," Chibs added. "She runs it legal. No problems from the feds or the locals. No raids. It's not as much fun as pussy, but it's damn near as popular."

Bobby carefully reviewed the report, which included future plans for merchandising, 'limited edition' drinks and flavored beans. "Your old lady's got a good business plan, Tig. She's definitely done her homework."

Tig played his trump card. "We don't have to put any money in, and it puts us in a better position to keep an eye on Zobelle's operation."

"I say we put it to the vote," Clay announced.

"Definitely yay," Trager answered.

"I'm with Tig, yay," added Chibs.

Yays were given by the Winstons, Opie and Piney.

Juice added his yay. "Tell Cat I'll set up a web page. It'll spur more interest and orders than her Facebook page."

Bobby added his 'yay' to the mix.

"Looks like we're in the coffee biz," Jax added, making the vote unanimous.

Clay banged his gavel. "Tig, I'm sure you want to be the one to give your old lady the good news. The Sons of Anarchy now have a 30% stake in_ Charming Pawse_. Boys, don't wear down the lady by requests for free drinks and food. You'll kill our profit margin!"

Trager waited until he left the chapel to get out the two way and deliver the news.

"Next time I see you, we'll have _grounds_ for celebration!" Cat annouced.

"Baby, that was the worst pun you've ever pulled, and you've pulled some bad ones! Remind me to 'pun'ish you for that one later!"

"I'm so scared!" she laughed merrily. Her laugh didn't sound at all frightened.

"Just wait, woman!" he growled.

* * *

Cameron Hays and the Sons worked out a plan for running guns, with the first run made under the guise of a charity ride. Cat brought over a crate of coffee for the riders before they left the clubhouse. She had agreed to sponsor the charity run when the partnership became official. The men were well bundled up, as they would be riding north where the weather was cooler.

She didn't plan to stick around long after delivering the coffee. Nor was she going to hang on to Tig in public; they'd already had their private farewell. She did accept and return a hug and kiss, accepting good naturedly the hoots and catcalls of the gathered riders. Tig jokingly dropped her into a dip as he kissed her, and she willingly played along, holding onto her fedora and lifting one leg gracefully in the air. "Eat your heart out, boys," he growled. "She's all mine." He let her up from the dip, holding her close as he did so.

"Ride safe, fellas!" She called to the men as she returned to the PT with Alex at her side. When they reached her Cruiser, she added worriedly "Is Bobby _really_ going to ride that old Fat Boy?"

"If he can get the bucket of bolts started. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Have fun, love." She started the Cruiser only to be rewarded by the sound of an awful banging and sputtering. 'What the Hell? The engine doesn't _feel _like it's running wrong!' She popped the hood latch and started to get out to check.

Alex was a step ahead of her. "That's the Fat Boy," He assured her, pushing the hood back down and motioning her to get back in the car.

"Oh, Gawd!" she petitioned the heavens, shaking her head in dismay. That old piece of tin sounded like the one and only non Mopar vehicle she'd ever owned which lived up to its' nickname 'Fix Or Repair Daily'. She had a lot of misgivings about that old bike, but she kept them to herself. Instead, she patted the hand on her door. "See ya when I see ya," she said.

Later that day, Pete called her to take a call on the store phone. "It's Mr. Chibs."

"Cat here, how goes the ride, darlin'?"

"I've gud news and bad news. The gud is that Tig is ok; he got rear ended by the Fat Boy. The bad news is that he's been picked up by a group of bounty hunters at the hospital."

Cat closed her eyes. Alex captured by bounty hunters? "Hang on a second, Chibs." She put him on hold and moved to the back room and her desk there. She took him off hold and asked him to fill her in.

Chibs recounted how Bobby's Fat Boy had started acting up and then went out of control, rear ending Tig's bike. The impact sent Tig and his Dyna flying over an embankment. Besides bumps and bruises, Tig received a nasty gash above his knee. "When the ambulance got him to the hospital, they refused to treat him. Somethin' aboot them not bein' in 'is insurance network," Chibs added.

"Didn't they ask about alternative payment?"

"Nay. Bobby said they were gonna send 'im ta Red Bluff. No one even looked at 'im."

"So how in the Hell did bounty hunters get into the picture?"

Chibs explained that one of the admin clerks apparently called in Tig's name and he was on a list. "Jax says it's a common practice. They get paid for every referral that pans out."

The fact that Alex had an outstanding warrant didn't bother her half as much as the way he was captured. "Where's the hospital, Fillip. I swear to God I'll personally scalp whoever ratted him out!"

Cat rarely called Chibs by his given name. For her to do so now indicated just how upset she was. "What gud wud that do, Lady Cat?"

"It'll make me feel better for one, and that rat would probably rather deal with me than Tig," she replied, already making a mental 'to do' list in preparation for a road trip.

Chibs was reluctant to tell her, but knew if he didn't she'd find what she needed on her own and gave her the name of the town. "It's a small hospital here," he replied. "Don't worry, Lady Cat, we'll get 'im back."

"I know y'all will. Y'all have my cell number, keep me posted. And Chibs?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Not a word to Tig about me goin' up there."

Chibs wasn't willing to promise that. He settled for admonishing her. "Be careful lass."

Cat was more upset than she'd let on to Chibs. 'It's no secret that hospitals will turn patients away with the wrong insurance and no other way to pay, but to not ask about other payment? And selling names to recovery agents? I've got a bad feeling about this! I'm gonna call June.'

Her friend in Florida had a degree in health information, and had often helped Cat deal with her mother's caseworker. She was used to having her friend pick her brain. "Hospitals usually do ask about alt payment before shipping someone off, chick. As far as selling names on company time, it's frowned on but it _is _done, even with the privacy laws. Care to tell me what's up?"

"I will, but can't right now. I'll tell you all about it at cawfee church. One other question, if a staffer is caught selling names on company time, is it an offense that can get 'em fired?"

"If it's not, it should be!"

"Thanks, kittenface. I owe you bigtime. Talk to ya at cawfee church."

She called the Indianapolis bank where the money from selling her house was deposited and arranged for a wire transfer to her bank in Charming. That fund had been left in Indiana for her mother's rent and other needs. She'd left the money there for an emergency after her mother's death.*

_* (see Charming Pawse Book 1 for that story)_

"Pete, I have an emergency. Can you pull a little O.T. today and close? I'll give you tomorrow off."

Pete had overheard his boss's side of the conversation and knew her 'old man' was in trouble. He had just gotten his promotion, and wanted to prove to Cat she'd made a good choice. "You go on, Miss Cat. Take care of Mr. Trager. I hope he's ok."

"So do I, Pete. Thanks."

She drove to the bank to finalize the new account, which was set up under the name of the 'Sons of Anarchy Emergency Medical Care Trust'. She then had a cashier's check drawn for a grand to the hospital in Chico from that account.

When she returned home, she put in a call to the club's attorney, Rosen. She needed his legal expertise with the new account. The attorney was in court, so she left a message for a return call the following day.

She changed into her riding gear, and packed her corduroy duster and fedora in the bike's trunk along with the check. In minutes, she and _Blackie 2 _were flying out of town and headed for Chico, her 'hissed off' tape, which started with '_Bitch_' blaring full blast.

Though Cat still wanted to go 'native' on the clerk, she had come up with a much better plan for retribution after talking to June. It would benefit the club and it would also be subtle and satisfying revenge.

It was a long, lonely ride with only the stereo for company, but she got to the hospital without getting a speeding ticket or a citation for disturbing the peace. She pulled into the parking lot and parked, leaving the stereo on to finish '_Hands in __the Sky_' while she changed from her riding gear to the corduroy duster and fedora. Fueled by the 'hissed off' music, Cat strode into the front lobby and halted before the information desk.

"May I help you?" inquired the elderly female volunteer manning the desk.

"Yes ma'am. I'd like to speak to the hospital administrator to file a complaint about the ER."

The volunteer checked her computer. "That's Mr. Lange, but he doesn't accept walk-ins."

Cat leaned against the counter while one hand reached into the pocket of her coat. "I'm sure he's a very busy man, and this is a nice little hospital. Wouldn't you hate to see its' reputation tarnished by a state investigation?" She pulled her hand from her coat pocket to reveal a small tape recorder adding in a quiet voice, "Mr. Lange may want to hear what's on this tape before I go public with it."

The volunteer quickly provided the room number for Mr. Lange. The woman in black was right, she loved her hospital, and she didn't like some of the things that had been rumored. If they were true, the administrator needed to know from an independent party.

"Thank you kindly, Mrs. Rose," Cat replied in a warmer tone, eyeing the volunteer's name tag. "I appreciate your help."

"Good luck," Mrs. Rose replied to Cat's rapidly retreating back. Something told the volunteer the woman in black wouldn't need it.

Cat prowled along the halls to the back entry of the ER. She wanted to see for herself the processes and procedures the staff followed. She also hoped to catch someone on tape dropping the dime to bounty hunters. She didn't have long to wait. Another motorcyclist, a 'lone wolf', was brought in by ambulance. He had broken his arm when he slipped and fell at a gas station.

Cat quietly maneuvered herself close to the desk, pretending to be interested in the various pamphlets on display. She reached into her coat pocket to start the tape recorder and kept watch on the clerks out of the corner of her eye.

"This one's OK, his insurance is in network," one clerk said to the other. The nurse standing nearby gave a sigh of relief. "Good. At least this one is better behaved than that outlaw that was here earlier."

The other clerk, a young dark haired woman, watched her co-workers walk away and looked around to see if anyone was watching her. Then she picked up her cell phone. "I've got another name for you to check. Don't forget that you owe me big bucks for that Trager guy you picked up."

Cat felt her blood pressure rise a few notches. 'Bitch!' she thought. It took all her self-control to keep from snatching the clerk bald headed. 'Remember, kid, revenge is a dish best served cold. You're gonna make it really icy for that chick. No goin' on the warpath.'

Having the proof she needed on tape, she turned and walked from the desk. As she passed the clerk, she got a good look at the woman's name tag. Cat found the administrator's office with little difficulty, only to have the officious little man try to put her off. She recognized it as a show of power, and invoked some of her own to prove she was no push over.

"You can talk to me, or to the state. _They'll_ be interested to know that some of your ER staff supplement their income by selling patient names to recovery agents. I believe that is a violation of privacy laws."

Lange ran his hand over his thinning hair. She had him cornered. "You win, lady. But I want some proof of your accusation."

She withdrew the tape recorder from her inner coat pocket, set it on his desk and hit the play button. The little recorder had clearly captured the clerk's call and her admission to having given up Trager.

She switched off the recorder and returned it to her coat when Lange made a move for it. "Not so fast, Mr. Lange. I'll be happy to give this to you, **after** certain conditions are met." She sat down without being asked, placing her fedora in the chair next to her. She withdrew an envelope from another inner coat pocket and placed it on the desk.

"That is a cashier's check made out to this hospital for $1000. It's to be set up in an account for the 'Sons of Anarchy' motorcycle club. They do a lot of charity rides in this region, and might require medical attention in the future."

"Oh, my God! You're that rider's girlfriend!" Lange exclaimed.

"That's not the issue. If any of your people had bothered to call his emergency contact number, you'd have learned that full payment would've been brought within two hours. You might even have learned that he had access to a credit card!"

"But, ma'am! He was yelling and carrying on in the ER and upsetting the other patients!"

"You'd do the same thing if you were being refused treatment!" She snapped. "Let's face it, all y'all bungled this. I'm here to clean up your mess. Unless you _enjoy_ the thought of a lawsuit."

Lange settled heavily into his office chair. "I'm listening."

"Condition two. You're going to personally write a letter of apology to Mr. Trager. It's to be sent next day air or ground or whatever to the address on this card." She placed a 3x5 card with the garage address printed on it in front of Lange.

"That letter will be a _sincere_ apology for the lack of courtesy and for the actions of your former employee while he was in your so called 'care'. I also expect the letter to announce the free medical treatment to the club. That _might_ placate him."

"It'll be in the mail today," Lange promised. "What former employee are you talking about? I'm not firing anybody."

Cat's expression turned feral. "Yes, you are. That's for _my_ satisfaction. Call in Ms. Fields, the clerk on this tape, and fire her. You have plenty of cause: violation of patient privacy, moonlighting on company time, violation of the cell phone policy, take your pick."

Lange placed the call. Within five minutes, the clerk knocked at Lange's door. Cat moved to the side of the door so that it would hide her until she was ready to confront the clerk. She waited silently as the clerk sat in the chair opposite the administrator. Lange informed the clerk the reasons for her dismissal and Cat moved to stand behind the woman.

"I didn't do anything to deserve this!" the girl protested though her heart was pounding frantically.

"'I've got another name for you to check, and don't forget that you owe me big bucks for that Trager fella you picked up'." Fields heard her own voice behind her. She whirled and nearly screamed at the black garbed stranger looming behind her.

Cat grabbed the clerk's purse from the chair and extracted the woman's cell phone. She accessed the call log and read off the last outgoing phone numbers, adding "She's called that number twice today."

Lange dialed the number and put the speaker on so they could all hear a male voice say "Bonds Are Us!" Lange terminated the call. "I expect you to be out of the building in fifteen minutes. Your paycheck will be mailed to you."

Fields collapsed in tears. There was nothing she could do about being exposed. The union wouldn't be able to help her because Cat was not a hospital employee. The 'no selling names' rule was one the union didn't fight when employees were caught red-handed. Fields rose from her chair, turned and bumped into the fierce black clad woman.

"Just a moment, 'madam'," Cat purred softly, her voice putting a special spin on the word so that it was more insult than courteous title. "I've turned in a few criminals in my time, but not for money! There is no lower form of life than a rat who sells names for a kickback. Remember me the next time you're tempted to make a quick buck at someone else's expense!"

Cat stood aside and allowed the clerk to flee the office. She turned to face Lange, a genuine smile on her face for the first time. "Thank you, sir. Now, if you'll be so kind as to show me where the accounting department is, I'll get out of your hair."

Lange helped her complete the task in record time. Before she left, he had a draft of the apology letter ready for her to review. She read it, smiled, and handed it back to Lange. "It's been a pleasure, sir."

Lange didn't relax until he saw Cat swap out coats, mount her bike and ride out of the parking lot. It wasn't until she'd left the grounds that he realized she'd taken the tape with her.

* * *

As Cat was wreaking her own particular brand of havoc on the hospital, the Sons were arguing over whether they should rescue Tig or continue with the gun delivery.

Clay stated that Tig would want them to deliver the guns on schedule; the job was the priority. As usual, Jax took the opposing view. This time he had the backing of Happy, Chibs, and Half-Sack. The Prospect had met up with the riders after tracking the bounty hunter's van to a nearby motel.

A fight nearly broke out between Clay and Jax over the issue, but Bobby broke it up. Half-Sack reported the recovery agents had beaten Tig and taken refuge in a hotel about two miles away from the gas station the riders were using as a staging point.

Piney made the decision for them when he showed up with the flatbed. He handed a shotgun to Jax and told him to climb on back if he wanted to rescue Tig. Prospect, Chibs, and Happy leapt on board to help out.

* * *

Tig wasn't very comfortable sitting in the back of the van with his arms cuffed behind him. The cut on his leg had opened again, and it hurt like Hell. 'I'm not letting these bozos know it,' he thought, fighting back a grimace of pain.

The agents explained that he had an outstanding $40,000 bond in Oregon from eight years earlier. He remembered that arrest on charges of assault and indecent exposure in a cattle transport. He thought the bail had been halted when the charges were dropped. Apparently he was wrong. He quickly determined that his only hope for rescue was to stall for time and the only stall he could think of was to taunt his captors into a fight.

His idea worked, but it earned him a severe beating. He wound up bleeding from cuts about his head and mouth because he couldn't fight back. He got in one good head butt, and that was it. The agents were so disgusted that they threw him out of the back of the van, ready to continue the beating. Their leader stopped them. They were left with no choice but to get a hotel room and clean Trager's wounds if they wanted to get paid.

The recovery agents were so intent on keeping Tig quiet and finding someplace to clean him up that they didn't pay attention to a white Harley trailing them. Nor did they notice when the same Harley raced away from that hotel after they checked in.

Piney didn't really have a plan for rescuing Tig, except for the element of surprise. When he turned into the drive leading to the hotel room Half Sack pointed to, he pulled the flatbed into a side drive and without warning, started backing the truck towards the room. The riders held on as the flatbed crashed through the wall. The agents were definitely caught off guard, though Tig saw what was coming at them. The four riders quickly recovered from Piney's crashing entrance, trained their guns on the agents and shouted orders for them not to move.

Happy leapt to the floor and cut the bonds on Tig's wrists. Tig jumped up, grabbed his knife and removed the duct tape from his mouth as he limped to the truck bed, offering taunting farewells to the agents. The others piled onto the back of the flatbed as Piney put it in gear. Guns still trained on the bounty hunters, the crew fled the scene, leaving the agents to their wrecked room.

Clay was quite pissed when they returned to the gas station, and demanded answers from Tig. He quickly explained about the ancient bail, adding that the others did the right thing in coming for him. If they hadn't, he would've been well on his way to an uncertain future in Oregon before nightfall.

The explanation didn't satisfy Clay, who slammed the cab door shut and stalked off as Tig was speaking. "That ain't good," Trager mumbled, watching Clay walk back to his bike. 'Neither is that,' he thought as he saw Chibs talking on his cell phone. 'I have a bad feeling about this,' he pulled out the two way only to receive Cat's voice mail. 'Shit! That hasn't happened since her mom's funeral!' His wounds were hurting and he tried to assure himself she couldn't talk on two phones at once, but he didn't believe it.

Piney noticed the other man's discomfort and passed a large bottle of Crown Royal to him. There was a straw sticking out of the bottle. Piney used a straw due to the oxygen tube he wore.

"Got another straw?'

Piney pulled a fresh one from the sun visor and stuck it in the bottle. Tig took a long pull from it. The liquor didn't deaden all the pain, but certainly put a dent in it. Once the disabled bikes were loaded on the truck, Trager asked if they could go back by the hospital.

"You're not going after that rat clerk in your condition!"

"No, man. Chibs told Cat about the bounty hunters. He told me on the way back from the hotel that she went on the warpath and was threatened to scalp the clerk. I wanna make sure she's not getting herself into trouble."

The club knew all about Cat's temper after her showdown with Agent Stahl. None of them _ever_ wanted to be on the receiving end of it. Without another word, Piney turned the truck toward the hospital. Moments later, they were scanning the lot, but neither the PT nor the rice burner were found.

When they returned to Charming, Piney dropped Tig off at the hospital ER and went on to deliver the bikes to the garage. To Tig's relief, Tara wasn't on duty. Instead there was a welcome vision in black sitting right in front of the entrance. She approached him and laid a hand on his arm. "I heard you hit the ground pretty hard with help from Bobby's Fat Boy," she said quietly.

He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it reassuringly. "Just a few scratches," he replied non chalantly.

"Yeah, right! And how many knuckles made contact with your face, love? Fucktards!"

Though it hurt, he put his arm around her and drew her close to him. "I'm happy to see you, too."

She'd already filled out the necessary paperwork for him. Chibs had called and left a message on her personal cell that they'd recovered Trager and he was coming back with Piney and the disabled bikes. She knew she'd have to explain why the two way had been on voice mail, but that could wait. She had no intention of him ever finding out about her solo run that day.

Alex was taken to a treatment room where Cat stood quietly in a corner keeping watch. Most of the cuts to his face were superficial. The gash above his knee required quite a few stitches. It wasn't as bad as it looked and no bones were broken. The doctor discussed the care the cut would requir and gave her a prescription to be filled.

When the release papers were signed, she wheeled Alex to the ER entrance. She didn't make any comment, just laid a hand on his shoulder and ran to the PT, which she had parked as close to the door as possible.

"This is a lot nicer pick up than the last one!" He remarked, easing himself into the passenger seat.

"I would hope so!" she sniffed. She drove straight home, there was plenty of time to get the prescription filled. She wanted to get him where he'd be safe, no sitting in the car waiting for her and advertising his injuries.

Alex carefully extracted himself from the car and limped towards the house. As Cat unlocked the door and made a grab for Ebony, he paused by the Yamaha long enough to check the engine. It was reassuringly cold. But when he glanced at the instrument cluster, he saw a significant amount of new mileage on the trip odometer. He stowed that information for future consideration and limped through the house to the bedroom.

Cat let him undress on his own, but helped him settle in the bed, placing pillows behind his back to make him comfortable. She tried not to wince when she saw all the multicolored bruises and cuts on his face and body.

Alex watched her expression as she helped get him situated. He could tell from the set of her jaw that she was upset but not willing to vent. "Thanks, babe."

She didn't reply, just left and went into the kitchen, where she made a lot of noise in making soup and a melted cheese sandwich for him. As she rattled pans, she thought 'If he can hold down something soft, I'll fix something more substancial later.'

All the noise alerted Alex that she was upset, and probably giving in to some female emotions that she wouldn't want him to see. He'd only seen her cry a few times since they'd been together. When she returned with the food, he couldn't see any signs that she'd been crying, but she was quieter than usual. 'I kinda wish she'd fuss, but I'm glad she isn't.'

She sat in the chair near the bed, her eyes taking in his every move.

"I'm fine, babe," he said reassuringly. 'Hell, I'd rather she make a scene!' he thought.

"The Hell you are!" she snarled. "Those fucktards beat you when you had your hands tied and couldn't fight back! All because of that piece of shit of Bobby's, which I suppose is still on the road?"

Alex grinned. '_That's_ more like it!' It felt good to be fussed over after all. "Promise not to throw a tantrum if I say it is?"

"He damn well better enjoy it. When he gets back, I'll take the damn thing apart bolt by bolt!"

He knew she could do it, too. Not just because she was pissed, but because she knew how. "Don't, babe. Bobby loves that bucket of bolts. It was an accident."

She wasn't convinced. "Accident my ass! We'll see how I feel when he gets back. Why in the Hell were you picked up by bounty hunters?"

For the second time that day, he explained the eight year old bail bond and the Oregon charge. "Honest, babe, I thought when the charges were dropped the bond was cancelled."

"That's supposed to be the way it works," she replied. "Something definitely stinks about this whole thing and it's not the livestock pen!"

He grimaced. "You're evil, woman."

She stood up and kissed the top of his head. "Don't you forget it," she reminded him sternly. "I'll be back in a bit. I'm going to call Rosen about that bond and get your meds."

She walked to the door and turned to fire a parting shot. "While I'm at it, maybe I'll call my financial advisor and have him buy some more first aid stock. You seem to be intent on keeping the companies that make 'em in business!"

He grabbed the red _Phantom of the Opera_ pillow from behind his head and threw it at her. She easily sidestepped the soft missle. "Nice try, love, your aim's a little off. Eat and get some rest, I'll not be gone long."

Alex grimaced at her and reached for the mug of soup. It was hot and smelled good. So did the sandwich. He sipped the soup, finding it was not too hot and very soothing. It didn't irritate his mouth. He bit into the sandwich, appreciating the easy texture of the melted cheese and the spice of the mustard.

Cat stepped into the office to call Rosen. He was available and she filled him in on the ancient bail bond. He agreed that something wasn't right and he would look into it.

"This bill is on me, not the club," she advised. "I also want you to draw up some kind of card or letter for the guys to carry pertaining to that bank account I set up. We'll talk more on that later, I've gotta run to the pharmacy."

When she returned from the drug store, she found Alex was sound asleep. The television was on, showing an edited version of the movie _**'300'**_ with Gerard Butler. She quietly put the supplies away and put his medicine and a glass of water on his bed table. She then settled in the chair to watch over him. He was breathing easily, which relieved her. His color, despite the various cuts and bruises was good. The only thing she was really worried about was the leg wound. It had been left untreated for some time. She hoped the Charming ER doctor had been able to clean it thoroughly, and that no infection would set in.

The long ride to and from the hospital, her fear and anger on his behalf, and her relief that he was safe had given her another one of those monster migraines. She remained curled up in the chair; she didn't want to disturb him by getting on the bed. Her eyes were heavy. She pillowed her chin in her hand. 'I'll just rest a few minutes.' Soon, she was sound asleep.

Trager awoke with a start, momentarily confused by his surroundings. 'I'm _supposed_ to be delivering guns with the guys; what the Hell am I doing on a bed?' For a brief, terrible moment he thought he was back in the hotel room with the bounty hunters. 'Nah, I wouldn't be lying naked in bed. I'm home!' He stretched his arm out to Cat's side of the bed, only to touch a furry body. Ming, the Siamese, made a sleepy noise at him, stretched, and then turned her back to him.

"Hello to you too. Where's your Mom?" He eased into a sitting position, glad to feel less pain and glanced around the room, catching sight of his wife curled up in the chair, her hand on her chin. She was sound asleep with Misty curled up on her lap. Ebony had curled up at the foot of the bed.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cut hurt, but the facial wounds hardly bothered him. His heart beat faster as he looked at his lady. She appeared small and fragile right then so that anyone who didn't know her wouldn't believe the inner strength she possessed. 'Wonder if she'd still feel the same about me if she knew I killed Donna. I wish I could tell her, but I'm too chicken shit to 'fess up.' He knew he'd lose the one thing in his life that was pure and decent and gave him comfort if he did.

He found the pill bottle and water glass. 'Good girl, she remembered to get non child-proof lids,' he thought, thumbing open the top. He popped a pill and drank it down with the water. He then tried standing. The cut on his leg hollered, but he could put weight on it. He hobbled the few steps to the chair and placed his hands on Cat's shoulders. "Wake up, baby," he shook her gently. "You can't sleep there all night. It's been a rough day for both of us. Come to bed."

She murmured a protest, opening one eye to glare up at him. "Seems dumb to wake someone to tell them to go to bed! What are you doing up, anyway?" She ignored the fact that his dick was right in front of her face and waving invitingly at her.

"I don't have much choice. _Some_ things a man has to do standing up," he replied.

"You didn't have to wake me for _that!_"

"I do for this," he grinned, bending to kiss her. She was afraid to respond at first for fear that she might hurt his battered mouth. His smile covered her mouth. "I don't have a glass jaw, babe. It's OK to kiss back."

His interested dick was poking her in the boobs, but she was still disoriented from her nap so that she replied "I thought you had urgent business?"

"I do. One's a little more urgent than the other. Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself." He walked towards the bathroom, adding "Wait there, I'll be back."

"Hmphf! Wait my foot! I don't know about you, stud, but_ I'm _ hungry for somethin' besides sex!" She stood up and went into the kitchen to make an omelette.

She returned to the bedroom with a tray to find him sitting up in the bed, waiting for her. "I figured you might want something to eat," she explained, taking the tray to his bedside table. As soon as the tray touched the table, he grabbed her and pulled her over on top of him, keeping his injured leg out of harm's way.

"Alex! You can't! Your leg!"

"Trust me, baby. I can do this – bad leg, beaten face and all - you'll just get to do the riding this time." His hands were already loosening her belt as he spoke.

"No fair!" She exclaimed. "You're already undressed."

"Won't be long before you'll be too," he assured her. "Now shut up and love me."

"Just don't blame me for your supper getting cold," she replied.

The following day, Trager drove the PT to the garage to check on his ride. Cat had hoped he'd take the day to rest, but he was concerned about the damage. He came back an hour later with the news that the Harley wasn't as damaged as he had feared. Most of it was cosmetic in nature, and Piney indicated it should be repaired within a week. The old man had pulled rank and made him go home. He wasn't scheduled to work due to the charity ride. Since he wasn't riding, he might as well recover at home.

Cat was roasting beans when he returned, so he sat in the back room of the store with her, watching the process. She had moved one of the chairs from the lounge to the back so he could be comfortable.

"There's no reason for me to sit on my ass doing nothing," he growled after a few minutes of enforced inactivity. He limped over to the worktable and took the scoop from her hand while laying a kiss on her. "Why don't you take a break and let me try my hand at filling these bags." He gave her a sly grin as he added, "it's not that hard to do; it's not quantum physics. Besides, I wanna discuss the trip mileage on your bike."

A discreet cough interrupted them. Pete was standing in the door to the work area holding a business card. "Sorry to interrupt, Miss Cat. There's a gentleman out here who says he wants to discuss a business proposition with you. This is his card."

"Be right there, Pete." She scanned the card, grateful for the interruption. Alex didn't share her gratitude, he was inwardly cursing the timing. In fact, he was pissed. 'Get over it, spud,' Cat thought, smothering her grin as she read the card. It was printed on heavyweight grade paper, the words _'Impeccable Smokes'_ embossed on it. The card listed an address across Main Street from Floyd's barber shop. '_Ethan Zobelle, proprietor_' took up one corner of the card. She tossed it onto the chair he'd vacated. "You're right, love. Fillin' coffee bags ain't quantum physics, but our conversation will have to wait. Store business calls."

"You're not getting off the hook that easy, woman. When you're done with business, _we_ have business."

She gave him a mock scowl before walking out to the front of the store.

He hobbled to the chair and picked up the card, scowling as he read it. 'Same asshole that showed up at Bobby's party. I've got a bad feeling about this.' He moved closer to the doorway where he could eavesdrop.

The first thing Cat noticed was that Ethan Zobelle was shorter than her husband. Silver haired, dressed to impress in suit and tie. She distrusted 'suits' out of habit. Corporate types like him were usually the type to smile up front, but do dirty deeds behind the back.

"Miss Marshall, I presume?" He held out his hand to her. She gripped it firmly and tried to hide her displeasure at his rather limp grip.

"_Ms_. Marshall, most folks call me Cat," she corrected politely, resisting the urge to wipe her hand on her jeans. Zobelle's grip had a cold, slimy feel to it, something that she absolutely_ hated_. One could tell a lot from another's handshake. His screamed 'slimeball'.

"My assistant said you want to discuss a business matter. Shall we sit down?" She indicated a set of chairs next to the back room entrance, where she usually conducted job interviews. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" she added as they were getting settled.

Tig inched a little further into the shadows, silently praising her for her good thinking. She obviously wanted him to listen in. He felt at his back for his pistol, reassured that it was there if needed.

"Thank you, yes. Just regular coffee with cream."

"Pete, give the man a regular house blend, large, room for cream. I'll have the usual."

"Coming up Miss Cat."

As they waited for Pete to bring the drinks, Zobelle gave the surroundings a cursory once over. The stereo had been playing Jerry Reed and other outlaw country. Jerry was singing about being '_Eastbound and Down_' after espousing the merits of '_When You're Hot You're Hot_'.

Pete brought over the drinks and the creamer pot. He glanced questioningly at Cat who nodded her head slightly in the gesture he knew meant 'hover casual'. He reached under the counter and turned on the digital camcorder she'd installed after Stahl's visit for incidences such as this. The camera could be operated by remote, and Pete centered it on the interview area.

Zobelle stirred in the cream and took a sip. "This is excellent! I understand you do your own roasting."

Pete had brought Cat a cup of ice, with just a bit of water. She took a bit of the crushed ice and chewed to hide her displeasure. She knew that Zobelle was playing games with her and delaying the conversation.

Pete mumbled "Oh, broth-er!" and rolled his eyes.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but I have a batch of beans roastin' right now, and really don't want 'em to get overdone. So would you mind tellin' me what's on your mind?"

Zobelle took another sip, rolling the brew appreciatively in his mouth like a wine connoiseur. After several minutes he finally said, "I'm opening a business down the street, a gentlemen's lounge for the purchase and smoking of fine cigars."

Her eyebrow shot up her forehead. "Just for men? Do you have a problem with women? Some _do_ smoke cigars. I used to smoke cigarillos."

Alex thought of the crushed cigarillo he'd found months earlier. He'd kept it in a pocket of his cut from the day he'd rescued Cat from the side of the road and found it in her jacket pocket.

Zobelle nearly choked on his coffee. "Well, of course! If there are women who enjoy a smoke, we're most happy to accommodate them!"

'Bullshit!' She thought with a feral smile. She chewed more ice before replying, "I'm sure the smoking women of Charming will be relieved. What does an upscale smoke place have to do with my coffeehouse?"

"I wanted to work out a deal to allow you to furnish coffee to my clientele."

Cat set her glass on the table with a decisive thud. She'd had enough of his diversionary tactics. "I'm sure that a man as accomplished as you can read," she said softly. "All you have to do for a large order is ask for it, just as the sign says. Ain't no need for any special arrangements. I've been patient, _Mister_ Zobelle. What's your **real** agenda?"

Zobelle sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. "I've been watching your business, _Miss_ Marshall. I have to tell you that as a neighbor, some of your clientele and your employees are a concern."

Cat leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in such a way that her index fingers were tented and shielding her mouth. "I'm all attention," she replied.

Tig winced. 'Uh, oh. I hate it when she uses_ that _tone of voice!' He knew it meant trouble.

Zobelle assumed a fatherly air. "One of your managers is Asian. There are quite a number of Caucasians who can do the work. Despite the fact that you have young Pete in a similar position, it's disturbing that you didn't promote another Caucasian."

"I see," she replied, her voice cold.

"Then there's that motorcycle club, Sons of Anarchy, that frequents your store morning, noon and night. Their presence _has_ to make God fearing citizens uncomfortable. As a parent, I would be _very_ reluctant to allow my child to attend your functions with the riders present."

"You shouldn't have gone there, buddy," Pete murmured, thinking of Trager listening in the back room.

"Of course," Zobelle continued snidely, "I can see why you might not consider the club a problem. I understand you cohabitate with one of them?"

"Do you speak to _all_ your business neighbors this way, or just the ones that don't adhere to your idea of how things should be?" Cat smiled at Zobelle and favored him with the 'look'. 'You're obviously the type of bigot who likes to masquerade as a gentleman,' she thought. 'You're no better than the Klan, the so-called Moral Majority, McCarthyism, and other groups who use their views as a means to harrass those who don't agree with them!'

"I'm not sure what you mean, Miss Marshall. I'm simply a business owner with concerns for the safety of my clientele."

Cat removed her glasses, placing them carefully on the table next to her. She felt a tension headache coming on and sometimes taking off the cheaters helped prevent it. . "Pete, go turn off the roaster, please," she requested.

Pete acknowledged her and hurried to the back, nearly yelping when he passed Trager. Tig nodded at Pete, a finger held to his lips. Pete continued on to the roaster.

Cat was angry, but she kept her voice under control. "I've got news for ya, _Mister _Zobelle. A number of good people gave their lives so idiots like you can spout stupidity and it's protected speech. _I have the right not to have to listen to it. _You and I can hire the _best _person to work, so if you wanna hire only whites, be my guest. Unless my employees treat you discourteously, keep your frackin' opinion about their ethnicity to yourself ."

She stood up, placing her hands on her hips and glared angrily at Zobelle "As for _my_ clientele, I'll serve everyone and anyone who comes through that door as long as they behave like civilized adults. I don't hesitate to remove anyone who can't obey the rules. That, Mr. Zobelle, is freedom of choice, and it's worked pretty damn good for more than 200 years!"

The outlaw tape had moved on from Kid Rock's '_All Summer Long_' to Hank Jr.'s '_All My Rowdy Friends_'. As if that was their cue, Anna and Pete appeared to stand on either side of her and Alex stepped up behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders and squeezing them reassuringly.

Trager's sudden appearance made Zobelle's face turn white. "Mr. Trager. I didn't expect to see you here," Zobelle sputtered. He'd been fooled into thinking it was safe to visit the coffeehouse because no motorcycles were parked out front.

"I'm full of surprises," he growled. "Cat _is _my old lady. Why wouldn't I visit?"

She smiled sweetly at the white separationist. "Your concern is appreciated, but very misguided. It's time for you to leave. Pete will be happy to show you to the door."

She turned and stalked to the back of the store, Anna following in her wake. Tig remained behind to insure that Zobelle didn't give Pete any difficulty.

"Thank you, Miss Cat, for standing up for me,"

"There's nothing to thank me for, Anna. You earned that promotion. He's a pompous, bigoted asshole who thinks everyone should follow him. Seen and fought quite a few in my life."

"He was in here yesterday while you were out of town. There was another man with him," Anna continued. "The other man had black bushy eyebrows and he started at me. He never spoke, but his eyes were full of hate for me! He scared me!"

"Did you get his name?"

"No, Miss Cat."

She lay a comforting hand on her employee's shoulders. Anna was shaking like a leaf in a gale. "If either of them darken the door again, you have my permission to have them removed, even if you have to call the house. Consider them permanently banned."

"Thank you, Miss Cat."

"No, Anna, thank _you_."

Alex had retrieved her glasses and overheard the conversation as he limped into the work area. He handed her eyewear over and Cat accepted them without comment. She removed the roasted and flavored beans from the machine while Alex resumed filling the bags.

He was proud of her for facing down the white separationist. 'Way to go, babe. You put that asswipe in his place without getting shrill about it.' Zobelle's visit made it clear that she was going to need protection. 'I doubt he's gonna let her get away with openly defying him. She can handle herself with bullies; he's not the common bully. It's good that we're partners now. It'll be easier to keep her safe.'

They worked silently until all the bags were filled. Alex then suggested a break. He still intended to discuss the extra mileage on her bike. He was also concerned over Anna's mention of her going out of town the day before.

Cat reluctantly allowed him to lead her back to the front. He waited until she settled on one of the couches, then limped over to the counter for their coffee.

"I should be doin' that!" she protested.

"Sit!" he ordered. "I'm not so laid up I can't carry a couple cups of coffee!"

He returned with two cups and the carafe which he set on the table in front of them. As she continued to glare worriedly at him, he sat on the sofa and propped his leg up on the coffee table. "Happy now?"

"Getting there," she replied, taking a sip of coffee. "I see you're already acquainted with Zobelle."

"He paid the club a visit during Bobby's party. He did his iron fist routine and got just about as much of a welcome."

She smiled grimly over her cup.

"Watch yourself around him, babe. He's white hate."

"We had the Klan in Indiana. I've dealt with these kinds of bozos before."

He shook his head. "This isn't the same. Zobelle has connections and is backed by big money. He's dangerous." He was about to broach the subject of the extra mileage and Anna's comment when he heard a motorcycle pull up and park in front of the shop. It was Half-Sack who was carrying a large envelope.

"Hey, Tig! This letter came to the garage for you, it's overnight mail from that hospital!" The Prospect had just returned from the charity turn to be sent off to deliver the envelope.

"Toss it!" he snarled. "Assholes are billing me for the treatment I_ didn't_ get!"

Cat laid a hand on his arm. "Don't be so sure, love. Bills are _never_ sent overnight. It might be something of interest."

He passed the envelope to her. "Be my guest."

She tore the strip from the envelope and withdrew a legal sized envelope. "This is from the hospital administrator, not the accounting department." She indicated the return address in the corner. "This is definitely not a bill." She passed the smaller envelope back to him, encouraging him to check it out. Alex held it as if he expected it to blow up in his face. He opened the envelope and read the letter.

Cat watched Alex's face as he read the letter. She already knew the contents and was interested in his reaction. He didn't seem to believe what he read and was more suspicious than pleased.

"It's an apology for not treating me," he said. "And promises free medical care for the club when we're on a charity run in that area."

"Far out!" Half Sack exclaimed.

"Nice of them to recognize their error," Cat mused, sipping her coffee. 'Damn! I thought he'd be happy! Guess old habits die hard after all.'

"Maybe their legal people thought an apology would keep you from suing them." the Prospect added.

Tig looked over the letter again, studying it closely. "Something's not right. I understand the apology; what I don't get is this offer of free care for the MC. What makes that guy think we'll be in the area again?"

Cat nearly spewed coffee and tried to cover with a cough, which wasn't very convincing. 'Hell! I never thought of that!' She blotted coffee from her face before it could fall onto her shirt. "Maybe the hospital thought y'all might be back sometime. Don't most marathons and charities run the same route?"

Tig glared at her. 'Why do I think you had something to do with this?' After having seen Cat in full battle mode, he wouldn't put anything past her. "The ones we're doing right now are," he replied. "But the general public wouldn't know that."

"If it were me, and someone wronged me the way those idiots wronged you, I'd not look a gift horse in the mouth," Prospect said.

"Amen!" Cat added.

"Don't remember asking your opinion, Prospect," Tig growled. "Don't you have someplace else to be right now?"

Cat playfully smacked his arm. "'Scuze me, bud, but you ain't the boss here."

"It's ok, Lady Cat," Half-Sack interjected nervously, glancing out the side of his eye at Tig. The Sergeant at Arms was glowering. Cat had just made a major mistake by publicly chastising Tig. He might not own the shop, but as a prospect, he had to do what Tig said, period.

"It is _not_ ok, Kip," she replied. "You have as much right to be here as Tig. _I_ call the shots here."

The youngster shook his head at her. "No, really, I have to get back to the garage." He stood up and scurried to his bike.

Tig waited until Prospect left to confront her. His voice reflected his rage. "Next time I tell Prospect to do something, do **not** undermine me. Doing what he's told is part of_ his_ job as a prospect. Keeping your mouth shut when I tell him to do something is_ yours_." He stood and limped to the door without looking back at her.

Cat remained seated, a stunned look on her face. As he passed the front windows, she leapt to her feet and ran out the back door, slamming it behind her.

Pete and Anna exchanged worried glances. They hadn't heard the conversation, but from the looks of the couples' respective exits, there was a storm on the horizon. They'd never heard Trager talk to her like that; and Cat didn't appreciate that attitude. She didn't take any guff from anyone, including her 'old man.'

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Anna," Pete moaned.

"There's gonna be fireworks, that's for sure!" she replied, shaking her head.

Alex limped around the block, smoking and thinking. It was the first time in their marriage that he'd gotten mad at her and he didn't really have a good reason. 'Shit! To her, Sack's just another person who deserves to be treated with respect. She was trying to be nice to him. She's right, I'm not the boss of her place.' He'd been stupid to let himself get angry with her. It wasn't like she did it intentionally or with malice. He planned to remedy that once they both had time to calm down.

As he neared the house, he heard the rice burner start up, the engine whining angrily. He picked up his pace, limping towards the drive but was too late. He arrived just in time to see the bike speed away. Cat didn't have her helmet or a jacket. 'Shit! She's pissed. Royally.' The sound of Warren Zevon blaring from her 'hissed off' tape amplified her displeasure.

He opened the door to the PT and lifted his injured leg into the cockpit, slamming the door and starting the engine as quickly as he could. The rice burner's engine was fading as it put distance between them. "Damn fucking foreign jobs and their quiet engines! It's never easy to track that damn thing!" His anger forgotten in his concern, he sped off in the same direction Cat had taken, He had the window down in hopes of hearing the engine or her stereo and finding her before she anger got her into serious hurt.

* * *

After exiting the back door of the coffeehouse, Cat stood in the yard in confused contemplation and anger. "God damn it! There's no reason to get pissed because I was nice to Kip! Give a man 30% of your business and he thinks he can take over! Damn male chauvinist pig!" She threw a few Tai Chi punches, but couldn't clear her agitation. She thought she might understand why Alex got upset but she couldn't just overlook the rules she set up just to assauge his male ego.

'Which is better, demand to have it out or go cool off?' she debated with herself. A face off would do no good. She'd had one nasty one with Zobelle already. 'I'm really not up to having a clash with Alex. One a day is about all I'm good for. Maybe I'd better get away for awhile.'

She pulled out her cell and dialed a number, packing back and forth as the connection was made.

"Teller-Morrow, This is Gemma."

"Cat here. You up to a visitor? I think I just stepped in a big pile of bullshit and sank knee deep."

"Where are you?"

"My backyard. Tig took off the long way from the coffeehouse around the block. He's smokin' in more ways than one. I need some perspective and space away from him."

"You sound upset yourself. You OK?"

"Oh, sure! Had a wonderful visit from Ethan Zobelle today, the king of white hate! Between tellin' him off and gettin' in an argument with Tig, I'm just dandy!"

"Come on out to the garage. Or do you want me to come there?" Gemma replied.

"Sit tight. I'm on my way," Cat stalked to her bike and gunned the engine. Without thinking about leaving a note or calling the two way, she raced out the driveway onto the street, not noticing that Alex was limping towards her. Her hissed off tape was blaring '_Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner_'. She lifted her face into the wind, standing on the footrests to get as much fresh air as possible. Her hair ruffled in the breeze so that she felt as if she were flying. Even though she was pissed, she loved riding standing up the most because it made her feel free of earthly restraints.

She turned into the garage drive and parked her bike beside Gemma's Escalade instead of along the row of bikes near the club. It didn't occur to her that her bike was hidden from view of anyone on the street or any of the guys. She walked into the office as Gemma was gathering her things. The shop was busy, but it appeared that none of the men noticed her.

"Come on, we're going for a drive and have a talk," Gemma said. "We'll go someplace where men don't go."

"Is there_really_ such a place?" Cat asked.

"I'll show you. We can talk and be treated like queens at the same time."

They climbed into the Escalade, pulling away from the garage just as the PT roared around the corner. If she'd seen the way Alex was abusing her car, she'd have grounded him from driving it for a month. He brought the car to a screeching halt next to the Yamaha.

He limped into the office, expecting to find her there, but it was empty. He knew she wouldn't enter the clubhouse on her own without good reason, especially if he wasn't there. "Piney! Have you seen Cat?"

"Not lately," came the reply.

"That's not helpful," Trager mumbled. Her bike was still warm. The Escalade was missing along with Gemma and Cat. He felt a little less anxious. 'If Cat's with Gemma, she's safe.' He returned to the PT and sat in the front seat, pinching his nose with one hand before resting his head against the steering wheel. 'What is that woman up to?'

Piney walked up to the driver's side of the car. Prospect had already confided in him about the incident. Gemma had asked him to speak with Tig about the dust up before they left. After watching the way Tig had pulled into the drive, he knew he needed to help the rider get his priorities realigned. "First big fight with the old lady?"

"Wasn't a fight. I got on her case about Prospect. She was being her usual decent self after I told him to leave the coffeehouse."

Piney smiled knowingly. "She questioned your authority in public."

"No. Just in front of the Prospect. Her employees might've overheard."

"She made you look bad, though, right?"

"Yeah. All I did was tell her not to do it again and walked out on her," Tig replied, trying not to squirm. He felt like a bug pinned to a card getting ready to be put under a microscope.

"Well, brother, there's telling, and then there's telling. What did you do, get in her face and yell?"

"Hell, no!"

Piney put a large hand on Tig's shoulder. 'I have nothin' against your old lady, even if I suspect you killed Donna. There's a time and a place for getting after a woman about the respect due a man.' He knew from the way Tig was behaving that he'd over-reacted and knew it. "Brother, you _both_ trod on each other's boots. Your old lady doesn't tolerate bullying in her place and that's how she saw your treatment of Half-Sack. She has to enforce the rule."

Tig started to interrupt, but Piney held up his hand for silence. "Humor an old man for a minute," he continued. "You told Prospect to do something, Cat interfered. You saw it as having your authority questioned and corrected her. At least you didn't make a total ass of yourself. You obviously pissed her off. Otherwise, you wouldn't be looking for her and she wouldn't be off with Gemma."

"Prospect talked."

Piney nodded. "Don't be hard on the kid. He was afraid that you might've tore Lady Cat a new asshole. He's unhappy that you were in a tough situation with your lady because of him."

Tig slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration. "OK! I was pissed for a few seconds. Once I walked out of the store, the whole thing seemed pretty stupid. I walked around the block to give her time to cool off. By the time I got around to the house, she was gone."

"She's taking some time to cool off, there's nothing wrong with that. Why are you so intense?"

"Because she had a run in with Mr. White Hate, Zobelle. She doesn't like confrontations. I didn't want her to get into an accident."

"Cat's safe," Piney replied. "The women will talk and Gemma will get her up to speed about prospects. Just go home and relax. And have a little more respect for the lady's car, will ya?"

Tig had a feeling the old man knew where the women had gone and wasn't going to tell him. He considered waiting at the garage for them to come back, but Piney wasn't going to let him. The old man remained standing by the car, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Tig to start the car. He had no choice but to go home and wait.

* * *

The women didn't drive very far, just to a salon Gemma frequented. It wasn't a full spa, but it was more than a beauty shop.

"This is on me, " Gemma explained as they walked to the door. "I never got you a wedding present. We can talk here and not worry about the men for awhile."

Cat followed Gemma into the building, not certain that a beauty treatment was going to do her much good.

Gemma spoke with the owner, explaining they were there so Cat could get a hair treatment and a facial. When she protested, Gemma pushed her into the chair and said, "If you don't have the work done, we don't talk."

While the salon owner applied cream all over Cat's face, she told of the meeting with Zobelle's and ending with the argument with Tig over Half-Sack. "I get the impression that I did something wrong." Cat was lying on her back with cucumbers placed over her eyes.

"You did. But so did Tig," Gemma replied. "He knew better, you didn't. In the MC, a prospect is the club bitch. He does what he's told, when he's told. It's part of the process of getting patched."

"Like an initiation."

"When you told Tig he wasn't in charge of your place and told Prospect he could stay, you accidentally undermined Tig's authority. Tig did, technically, violate the rules and overstepped his bounds. You can't afford to play favorites when it comes to the rules. It goes on and on."

"Even though Half-Sack left, Tig still felt he had to put me in my place because my employees might've overhead what was going on. He had to save his reputation."

Gemma rested a friendly hand on Cat's shoulder. "Congratulations! You just passed SAMCRO 101 with an 'A'."

"I wish the club came with an instruction manual of some kind for old ladies," she replied dryly. The lesson was interrupted for the dried cream to be removed from her face. It was difficult to speak with water in her nose and mouth. Once rinsed and dried off, Cat threw a rueful smile at Gemma. "I think my membership as a feminist just went up in a puff of smoke. Damn, Gemma! How do you maintain respect and not get kicked around? I _won't_ be subservient to Tig – or anyone else!"

"You don't have to; that's not what he wants. This is an isolated incident, and he should have told you about this shit long ago. That's definitely something you 'needed to know'!"

Gemma sat down next to Cat as she added, "I'm just glad that you two went off in opposite directions instead of continuing the fight. That helps a lot more than screaming at each other in a parking lot." Gemma was thinking of the recent blow up she had with Clay. It resulted in a broken window on the Escalade and bruised fists for Clay. "How do you feel about getting rid of some of that gray," she added, changing the subject.

"A dye job?"

"No. This is a rinse that will cover the gray and add some highlights. I use it."

"Guess it can't hurt. I'm gettin' a little tired of lookin' like I robbed the cradle."

"It'll certainly stir the old boy up a bit," Gemma replied.

"Like he needs to be stirred up any more than he already is?" Cat muttered ruefully.

"It's going to be all right, Cat. Tig was coming after you in your Cruiser. I asked Piney to set him straight. The two of you need to set up some clear boundaries concerning the club, the coffeehouse, and your home. Sometimes the boundaries run together. That's ok. The important thing is to have them in place."

As her hair was being prepared for the rinse, Cat mulled over Gemma's advice. It made a lot of sense to her. 'We can point at all the technicalities of who was in the right forever and not get anything settled,' She sighed deeply, "I wish I'd known all this sooner. It would've saved a whole Hell of a lot of trouble."

"You're being too hard on yourself. You've never dealt with anything like SAMCRO in your life! Tig will listen to Piney. He's hard headed, but not stupid. Remember when I said you were walking a very fine line? You had a slip and fall, and you're going to get up again and keep going."

"Like getting back on the bike after laying it down," she replied. While she endured the rinse process, she reflecting on Gemma's behavior. If something terrible had happened to her the night of Bobby's party, Gemma was apparently on the road to recovery. There was no way she could've taken the time to help Cat otherwise.

Once her hair was dried and trimmed, Cat was impressed at the change. The highlights had taken care of the gray, and blended naturally with her hair's natural color. The trim had taken care of the split ends. "How often do I need to do this to keep it lookin' this good?"

"About once a month. We can do this together if you want," Gemma offered.

"Consider it a date."

They returned to the garage to pick up her bike. Cat was both relieved and disappointed that her PT wasn't there. Before they parted ways, Cat decided to throw caution to the winds and offer her assistance to Gemma.

"Thanks for takin' the time to listen and help me find the forest for the trees." She pointed to the scar on her throat and added, "I've gone through some shit in the past. If somethin' ever happens where you need to lean on someone who has been there, I'm in your corner."

She squeezed Gemma's hands before releasing them to mount her bike. She started it and left the garage area, leaving Gemma to ponder her offer.

* * *

Cat though of calling ahead to tell Alex she was on her way home but opted against it. By the time he answered - if he answered - she'd already be home. If he didn't answer, she didn't want to know about it. 'The best thing I can do is apologize. I was heavy-handed with him. Ignorance of the law isn't a defense in court. I can't hold ignorance of club etiquette against him.'

The house was dark when she pulled onto their street. She was relieved to see the PT parked in the drive. The sun was setting and the coffeehouse would be getting ready to close for the day. She noticed a small orange light glowing and dimming from a corner of the porch. She knew Alex was sitting there waiting for her.

She pulled into the drive and parked next to her Cruiser. She shut off the engine and sat listening to the ticking of the cooling engine. She ran nervous fingers through her newly darkened hair to settle it from its' wind-blown state.

"I really wish you'd wear your helmet when you ride around town," came a familiar growl from a corner of the porch. Alex was sitting on the rail, his back against the wall and his hurt leg resting in front of him.

"It's that rebellious wild child in me," she replied, dismounting from the bike and walking to him. "In case you haven't noticed, I don't know the meaning of the word 'obey'."

"Yeah, I've noticed," he replied dryly, drawing deeply on his cigarette.

She leaned against the railing next to him, trying unsuccessfully to read his temper. She couldn't tell if he was still mad at her. She knew he was concerned; he always growled when her safety worried him. "I also have the ability to recognize when I'm in the wrong and apologize for it," she added, laying a hand on his chest.

He covered her hand with his. "You weren't wrong. I should've told you about prospects a long time ago."

"Then let's just consider it a lesson learned, and go forward, ok?" She moved closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder.

He returned the embrace, throwing the cigarette into the yard. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Same here, love. There _won't_ be a repeat."

"Then we don't have to talk about it anymore."

Cat shook her head. "We_ do_ need to talk about it - at least a little. We really need to make sure this kind of misunderstanding doesn't happen again. We need to agree to some boundaries."

"What kind of boundaries?" he asked, that growling sound back in his voice.

"There's the house, the club, the garage, and the coffehouse. That's a lot to keep organized and sometimes everything runs together like it did today."

"And when it happens again, we want to be acting_with_ each other, not against each other, right?"

"That's the general idea," she replied.

"I can live with that. Guess I took charge a little today."

"That's a wee bit of an understatement! But I appreciate you lookin' out for me. I much prefer it when we're in synch."

"So do I" He was tired, and the porch wasn't the best place for them to talk. It wasn't good for his leg, either. "Let's go inside, cause we really need to talk about a few things."

She grabbed a beer from the icebox for him and poured some Tab for herself from a plastic bottle. She usually left the bottle loose so most of the fizz would evaporate. It was the only way she could tolerate carbonated beverages. He propped his leg up on the couch and she settled on the floor next to him. Once they were settled, he continued, "I hate to bring this up since it might put us at odds. But I'm not putting this off any longer. You're behind the letter that hospital guy sent."

"Damn! You weren't supposed to find that out! You figured it out when you looked at the bike, didn't you?" Despite her intentions, she felt her temper starting to flare. She didn't like having anyone checking up on her.

"Not deliberately, babe," he replied, sensing he was treading on dangerous ground. "You left a lot of clues."

"Such as?" She drummed her fingers in agitation on the sofa cushion.

"You forgot to reset the trip odometer on the bike. It wasn't hard to figure out you rode to that hospital and back. That also explained why the two way was on voice mail when I called. What'd you do, turn the whole place upside down?"

She smiled grimly. "You could say that. I got satisfaction for both of us. Can't we leave it at that?"

"No. I know your temper. Just _what_ did you do?"

She reluctantly told him about the sting she pulled off at the hospital that ended with the clerk's firing. "I suspect the ER staff will be under constant scrutiny for awhile."

"You did that for me?" Alex was impressed and surprised. He knew she loved him, but never realized she'd go to such lengths for him. 'She might not embrace the outlaw life, but she's got an outlaw soul when she'd riled.'

"You have complaints?" She replied defiantly. "You'd do the same for me. **No one **messes with me or mine and gets away with it. Not that rat clerk, not Zobelle and his asshole bigots, not a hospital unwilling to look into alternative payments for treatment!"

There was a flush of color to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the passion in her statement. She'd done more than just pull off the firing of that rat clerk "That offer from the hospital about medical treatment. The hospital isn't offering that. _You_ put it up! Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She cried in frustration. "So that no one, including you, would ever have to go through such an experience like that again!"

"That's not all you've done," he pressed, deciding to go for full disclosure come Hell or high water. "You had a call from Rosen and the bank about a medical account you set up for the club."

She sighed in resignation. "Guilty! Rosen is working up a legal letter all y'all can carry in case the same insurance FUBAR happens again! So shoot me!"

He reached down and took her hands in his, drawing her to the couch next to him. "No way! You did what you felt was right to protect me. You got payback without physically hurting anyone, **and **you've made things better not just for me, but the entire MC." He lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him. "I think you have a great, caring heart to show such loyalty. I'm not sure I deserve it, but I'm not gonna turn it down." He kissed her, trying to show the gratitude he felt for all she'd done.

When he released her, she smiled shakily at him. "I'll be honest with you, I wanted to scalp that bitch. That wouldn't have done anyone any good. I like how this turned out, after all."

She leaned against him in contentment. The storm was nearly over. He held her close to him, as he was bothered by one question, and didn't want her throwing anything at him when he posed it. "You didn't use store money for this, did you?"

She blushed; she'd never told him about the bank account in her home state. "I have some 'back money' in Indiana and used that."

"What the Hell is 'back money'?"

"When a man says he's broke, he's flat busted. When a woman is broke, it means she's down to her 'back money'; the money she keeps back for a rainy day."

"Why is it in Indiana?"

"When the house Bill and I owned sold, I set up an account to cover Mother's rent and any other emergencies. Mrs. York handled it after I moved. When Mother died, it was easier just to leave it there instead of moving it."

He nodded appreciatively. "Go on."

"When Chibs called about you bein' hurt and the hospital refusin' to treat you, I decided to have some of the money transferred here so it could be put to good use. I honestly wasn't holdin' out on you."

"I know that. It's money from your life with Bill. It benefitted your mother when it was needed, now it's benefitting the club. I don't call that holding out." He stroked her darkened hair. He'd noticed the difference the minute she'd ridden into the drive, but there were other, more important matters at hand. "You've shared so much with the club - with me - and never ask for anything in return. You're just as important to SAMCRO as Gemma. I'm gonna speak to Clay about making you our medical officer."

"Alex, don't put yourself out on a limb like that," she protested. "Not for me."

"Having someone like you watching out for us will be a good thing." As he continued stroking her hair, he added, "By the way, I like the new look. Not that I had any trouble with the grey."

"I did. Compared to your black mane, I was feelin' like a cradle robber. Now the odds are a little more even."

"Why don't we see how even those odds are," he leered, pulling her to the feet and into the bedroom.

The next day, Tig invited Clay over to the house to discuss the medical account and making Cat the club medical officer. They also needed to clear the air about the bond.

Rosen was also present as he had intel about the ancient bail bond. Because the meeting concerned her, Cat also sat in. As she'd suspected, the bond had been a ruse

"That bond was dropped along with the charges, so you never skipped, Tig," Rosen explained. "It appears that the League paid the recovery agents to go after you. Their intention was to turn you over to League members in Oregon."

"Fucktards!" Cat snarled.

"As far as the medical account you set up, Cat, the letter is ready. All you have to do is sign the original and I'll get copies delivered later today."

Cat affixed her signature to the paperwork with a flourish, a satisfied smile crossing her face. "Let any hospital try to turn y'all away now!"

"I don't think they'll dare," Trager replied. "Clay, after that FUBAR yesterday, it's obvious we need someone to serve as a medical liaison for us."

"I don't suppose you have someone in mind?" Clay asked, casting a knowing eye at Tig's wife.

"You know I do. Cat's the best person. She didn't just set up the local account, she's set up an account with that damn hospital."

"Tig – " Cat interjected, "Please don't."

"_You_ won't tell, you're too damn modest." He told Clay of the sting on the hospital clerk that ratted him to the bounty hunters, and handed over the hospital administrator's letter.

"You did all that in one day?" Clay looked at her in a new light. He thought he'd grown pretty used to her unorthodox approach to the club, and then she would surprise him all over again!

Cat was flushing from what she felt was undue attention. "It's not a big deal, Clay. I did what was necessary to protect my man, that's all. Wouldn't Gemma do the same thing?"

"She has and I expect it from her. I just didn't expect you'd do something like that," Clay replied. "How do _you_ feel about this post? You realize it doesn't make you a voting member."

She nodded. "I'll take it if the guys ok it. But it's gonna be done right. I'm gonna need some kind of medical power of attorney to fill out forms when needed. I'm _not _takin' Gemma's or any other old lady's place!"

"We'll present it to the club and see what they say, but I don't think there'll be a problem with it," he replied. "Thanks for looking out for us."

Clay turned to Rosen and asked about the cost of his handling the bail issue. Rosen glanced at Cat, as he had acted on her behalf, not the MC.

"You're not telling me. . ."

"She did," Tig replied proudly. "She spotted the problem right off and told Rosen. She's picking up the tab for it. Just try to get her _**not**_ to."

"I won't," Clay replied wryly.

The pair presented the nomination to the club later that day and it was unanimously adopted. Rosen drew up the medical power of attorney, and Cat met with each unattached club member to discuss it with them and get the paperwork completed.

She purchased a safe and had it installed in her garage, where she would keep the files until they were needed. She assured each rider that no one but her would have access to the safe.

The club seemed to be happy and even relieved with the arrangement. Cat herself hoped she'd never have to use her new status. Little did anyone guess that Fate had other ideas.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER**

The following is a work of fiction.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists and songwriters.

Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (aka the Dear Husband, who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me _all _my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. It's been a great fifteen years, and here's to many more!

My best friend (who lives in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. And her daughter, my 'unofficial' godchild, for the same. I'm very proud of you both.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement in this venture, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, , SOA Forever and Facebook friends who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on . Check out her SOA/Tig Story called '_Sapphires and Whiskey'_. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art, which is my avatar. I love it!

**Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager. **

**Charming Pawse **

**Book II **

**Chapter 3 **

**Smite through Gilead**

Cat slept peacefully in Alex's arms, her head pillowed on his chest. She was worn out following some enthusiastic 'nighttime manuevers' and from a week spent caring for his wounds, meeting with the unattached riders about their medical histories, and running her business.

Alex lay awake, stroking her dark brown hair that had highlights of gold and lighter browns in it. 'I really didn't mind the grey, but if she's happy with the new look, I'm not complaining,' he thought contentedly. '_She_ feels better and that has its' benefits!'

His smile disappeared as he recalled the meeting between her and Zobelle. Alex was concerned that Zobelle would retaliate over her open defiance. 'She needs to learn a better way to protect herself. Tai Chi and the baseball bat are OK for close situations. I don't_ ever_ want her to be that close to him again. I'm gonna have to teach her to shoot a gun.'

She knew he carried and while she didn't object to storing his personal stock in the house, she'd never shown any interest in the guns, either. 'Hell, for all I know, she could be one of those women that get squeamish around 'em!' He knew they'd need a secure, private place to practice; the warehouse was off limits. LuAnn had banned all target shooting after Gemma and Tara shot up one of the actresses' vehicles.

'Fuck it! We'll take the PT out to the country. No one will be around to report us. We'll have plenty of privacy for shooting and anything else that happens to cross our minds.'

Thinking of the Cruiser brought another sore spot to mind other than the cut on his leg. He hadn't been cleared to ride because a blood infection had developed, despite all the care and attention Cat had given it. The infection wasn't serious enough to require him to be admitted to the hospital. Instead he'd spent a couple of days in bed with chills, fever, headache, and worse of all – in his opinion - no sex.

Cat blamed the hospital that refused to treat him for the infection, and had been ready to back on the warpath on his behalf. Much to his surprise and relief, she reluctantly abandoned the idea when Gemma advised against it. "You already got revenge, Cat. Let it go and concentrate on taking care of your man."

When he was able to get out of bed and walk on his own without breaking a sweat, he'd insisted on taking the PT to the garage. He wanted to check on the repairs to his bike and learned of a delay.

"What the fuck d'ya mean, there's a part on back order! The Dyna's only a year old!" He roared at Clay in outrage.

"Backorders happen, so don't yell at me!" Clay replied, his voice stone cold. Inwardly, he was laughing his ass off. He'd ordered a halt to repairs after learning from Cat of the blood infection. She'd shared her fear with him that Tig might suffer another setback by riding too soon.

"Tig's getting as restless as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs and he's driving me nuts!" she complained. "He wants to use the rice burner, and he can barely handle the Cruiser!"

"I understand your concern, Cat," Clay replied. "I need him back but need him healthy. Just how bad is he?"

She sighed. "Mainly a bit weak. It was pretty rough for him, no thanks to that frackin' hospital! Tig is _not _a very patient patient!"

Clay smiled with amusement. Tig was a notorious man of action, and didn't like inactivity. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it, darlin'. Until he's medically cleared, he won't be riding his bike. What you do to keep him from _yours_ is up to you."

"Gee, thanks!" Cat replied dryly. "I thought there was some rule about not sittin' on another man's bike!"

"There is. You're his wife. Rule doesn't apply," Clay informed her.

"Shit!" She'd have to come up with an excuse to keep him away from_ her_ bike. "How the Hell am I supposed to keep him away from the Yamaha? Bury the key in the litter box?"

Clay laughed so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Cat. I'm not laughing at you, but the image of Tig digging around in a litter box is just too funny. I needed a good laugh, darlin'. You'll come up with something. Good luck, you're gonna need it."

"Thanks a lot!" she replied dryly, though her tone was anything but grateful.

Clay stared unwaveringly at Tig's angry visage. "Deal with it," Clay said. "There's nothing either of us can do about it," he turned and stalked to the office.

Tig glared angrily at Clay's retreating back. 'I'll bet there isn't. You've been talking to Cat!" He knew she was worried about his recovery. 'I'm not used to havin' someone give a shit about me; going to Clay behind my back isn't right! I'm gonna have to remind her where her loyalties _should_ lie!'

He contemplated several enjoyable ways of enforcing the lesson as he drove home, and found another unpleasant surprise awaiting him. The Yamaha was gone and a Charming Police car was sitting in its' place.

His first thought was that Cat had been in an accident. He quickly limped from the Cruiser, but the squad car was empty. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The cop's not waiting out here, so she's OK. Something else has happened and they're talking in the house.' He shook his head and limped inside, relieved to see her sitting at the kitchen table with a uniformed officer.

"Some asshole took off with _Blackie 2_!" Cat informed him indignantly. "I came out to get the mail and found the bike was gone! Who the Hell in this town would want to steal a rice burner, for cryin' out loud!"

Alex's first reaction was a puzzled frown. His Sergeant at Arms persona hollered in suspicion at the new development. 'Seems a little _too_ convenient coming at the same time as the delay on the Dyna's repair!' Despite his suspicion, he could see that Cat was genuinely pissed at the loss of her bike.

'She might be sneaky in order to make life better for me, but she'd sure as Hell never make a bogus report to the cops!' Once the report was complete and the cop had left, he held his upset bride in his arms, chiding himself for his paranoia.

Cat squashed a qualm of guilt as Alex comforted her. 'I told a fib, but it's just a little white lie, as Bill used to say. Alex doesn't have to know that I _hired_ someone to make off with the bike.'

He frowned in recalling Cat's reticence about filing a claim with the insurance company. "There's a chance the bike might be recovered. If it doesn't turn up in a week, I'll call 'em. It really won't make a difference whether the claim gets made today, or in a week. I've got more important things to deal with," she explained patiently. "We've still got the PT, and the part _will_ get in for your bike."

As he lay listening to her breathe, Alex couldn't find any reason to continue to be suspicious, and finally told his SAA persona to fuck off. 'I'm off work until the doc clears me. Why am I wasting time I can use more pleasurably in looking for conspiracies that don't exist?' The coming day was full of promise, but not if he didn't get some sleep.

Sleep was the last thing on his mind when he woke up Sunday morning, but when he saw the dark circles under Cat's closed eyes, Alex decided to let her sleep in. 'We've got the whole day ahead of us. It's not gonna kill me to let her sleep in for once.'

He crept from the bed and started the coffeepot she'd set up the night before. While the coffee brewed, he retreived the newspaper and fed the cats, then loaded his bag of personal hardware, ammo and some targets in the PT's hatchback.

He was reading the comics when she stumbled through the living room a couple of hours later. Her eyes were half closed and her attention was focused on the smell of fresh brewed coffee.

"Hey," he reached out to grab her by the hand for a good morning kiss.

"Meeehhh!" she whined, straining against his hand for the kitchen and the coffee.

"No kiss, no coffee," he growled, holding her captive.

"Meh," she grunted unhappily. She was _not_ a morning person, even if it was closer to noon than morning.

"C'mon, Cat!" he was enjoying himself. "Just one little kiss, then you can have all the caffeine you want!"

"If that's how it's gonna be," she replied evilly, bending down to place a chaste, sisterly peck on his cheek. She smiled and turned towards the promised coffee.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Not good enough, woman!" he pulled her into his lap and extracted the kiss he wanted. When he released her, he said dismissively, "You may now have coffee." His voice sounded regal and majestic; a King granting permission for his subject to leave his magnificent presence.

"I'm comfy," she replied. She reached for the cup on the table next to the chair, helping herself to a taste of his coffee. "Ah! Much better," she sighed contentedly.

"Damn, woman! You must've needed caffeine to be willing to drink it black!"

She smiled up at him. "I don't have to have white chocolate cream _all_ the time, love. Abstinence can make the heart grow fonder."

"Whatever!"

She snuggled under his chin. "I feel like the cats. A nice lap, a fresh cup of coffee, life is good. I could stay here like this all day."

"Don't get _too_ comfortable," Alex replied. "I've got plans."

"Oh, really?" she responded archly. "I suppose they involve bedroom calisthenics!"

"Nah. I thought we'd take the PT out, get some fresh air, see the sun."

"Well! I'm impressed!" she replied, getting up to get a refill for him and a fresh cup for herself. "Any particular place in mind?" she added, handing over his cup before sitting cross legged on the floor in front of him. She picked up the front section and scanned the headlines.

"Just wherever the PT takes us. We haven't done that for awhile. Today seems like a good day for it, though it'd be better it we had a bike." He gave her a meaningful look.

"Yeah, too bad some fucktard took the rice burner," she replied innocently, "it's perfect bike weather!" She contined to sort through the newspaper, sipping her coffee to hide her grin. 'Nice try, stud!'

He glared at her over the comics page, but she was studiously reading the letters to the editor and ignoring him. 'OK, it is what it is,' he tossed the comics to the floor. "Ya know, you can always read the paper later. We're losin' daylight!"

She gazed up at him, saw that he was giving her 'the look', and grinned impishly. "For someone with no particular place to go in mind, you're certainly chompin' at the bit to get there!" She got up from the floor by using one of her fluid Tai Chi stretches. "Be ready in just a couple of minutes, love!"

They drove to one of her favorite isolated places where she liked to fish. It reminded her of the 'crick' at her grandparents' farm where the sun would shine through the tree limbs and leaves, warming the ground and the water while shutting the area away from the casual observer.

When Alex opened the hatchback, he surprised her by unloading the bag of guns and some targets instead of the fishing gear she expected.

"What the Hell is all this? You turnin' mountain militia on me?"

Alex glared at her. "Smartass. We're gonna find out which gun works best for you and you're gonna learn how to shoot it. If you have to protect yourself, I don't want you shooting your foot or me by mistake!"

"Don't give up your day job to become a comedian," She growled. "Do you _really_ think Zobelle is that much of a danger?"

"I'd rather be safe than sorry," he replied, loading a revolver. He limped to a tree and attached a target to the trunk, then walked back behind the Cruiser's hatch. "C'mon over here," he gestured for her to stand in front of him.

He handed the gun to her, pleased that she didn't cringe at the idea of holding it. Her grip on the weapon was firm and sure, reminding him of the way she would often grip his dick.

'Not now!' he thought to himself, fighting back the natural physical response whenever he thought erotically about her. 'This is important. There'll be plenty of time for that later!' He reached around her, took her hands in his and showed her how to undo the safety, aim, and fire. It took all his will to concentrate on the task at hand, as the black raspberry scent of her shampoo tended to drive him wild. "Try to get the bullet as close to the center of the target as you can," he instructed.

She glared at his use of the word 'try'. "I know my eyesight isn't good, but I _can_ hit a barn with a bazooka!"

"I'm being serious, babe. The gun will kick when you fire it, so don't let it catch you off guard. It's OK if you hit the tree instead of the target. Nobody makes a bullseye the first time. Take a deep breath and hold it, then squeeze the trigger."

She complied with his instructions. The gun roared and a hole blossomed right in the center of the yellow circle.

"How's that?" She asked, turning to him with a wide smile of delight. Despite his comment, she'd hit the bullseye on the first shot. Course, he had helped her aim and steady the gun before she fired it.

'Good thing she can't see my expression through the shades,' he thought, frowning at the hole in the bullseye and back at her. He cleared his throat and replied, "Not bad. Wanna try it on your own?"

"Sure," she replied, assuming the stance he'd shown her. She sighted and fired. Another hole appeared in the center of the target. It looked to him as if she felt at home with the handgun, he expected her to twirl the revolver on her finger or blow on the barrel. 'It _could_ be beginner's luck,' He stared from her to the target again. "How's that feel to you?"

"It's a little too light, and unless I'm playing 'Lone Ranger', I don't like six shooters. Got anything else?"

He cast a confused glare at her, but complied by loading a semi-automatic, similar to the one he carried. "Try this. It's a little heavier," he advised, showing her how to arm it.

She hefted it in her hands, getting used to the difference in weight from the revolver. Appearing satisfied, she assumed the same stance, aimed, and fired again. A third hole appeared in the yellow circle. If a line were drawn between them, it would form a perfect triangle. She squeezed off a few more rounds, each hitting the center, making one large hole.

Tig leaned against the hatch and crossed his arms, glaring over his sunglasses at her. "When and where did you learn to shoot? Who the Hell taught you?" he growled.

"My male cousins. I spent a lot of summers on the family farm in Harrison County. It might interest you to know we do more than grow corn in Indiana!" She replied with her own version of the 'gotcha' grin. "They got to do all the fun stuff, and I tagged after them until they _had _to teach me stuff to get any peace! They taught me to fish, swim, fight, smoke, drink beer, fix and drive cars, climb trees, drive a tractor, cuss, hunt, shoot guns and play basketball. We also hunted deer. That's why I'm comfortable with guns."

Tig pouted at her explanation. "Dammit! Why the Hell didn't you _tell _me you already knew how to shoot?" His voice was petulant.

"You never asked, love. Besides, if I'd told you, we wouldn't be havin' this quiet time together, would we?"

"Maybe not here," he replied, limping to the tree to remove the target. He limped back to the car and tossed it disgustedly in the hatchback, then loaded his guns and ammo back into their bag. She handed the semi-automatic to him, but he waved her off. "Keep it. It's yours," he grumbled. "I'll get a holster for you later, unless you've already got one you haven't told me about."

"Ah, c'mon love! Don't be a spoilsport! You _said _we could both do with some fresh air and sunshine, so what are you complainin' about?"

He glared at her, realizing that she'd played him like a concert pianist. "Damn you! Am I _ever _going to know everything about you?"

"Hang around long enough and you might," she replied. "If you learned everything right away, there'd be nothing fresh to surprise you with later."

He took the gun from her and set the safety before drawing her in his arms. "I can think of plenty of fresh things to do to _you_," he growled, sliding his hands up under her shirt and squeezing both breasts in his hands. He felt a great deal of satisfaction as both nipples grew taunt under his questing fingers.

"Remind me to get you outdoors more often, if it's gonna have this kind of effect on you," she purred, undoing his zipper and belt. She reached down and _finally_ applied the same sure and firm grip on him that she'd used on the gun.

The doctor gave Tig the OK to ride, though he still walked with a limp. The doctor assured him that was a temporary problem. The back ordered part came in and his bike was ready the day the doctor released him.

A few days after his bike was fixed, the Yamaha was recovered in Stockton. The paint and body was dented and scratched, the ignition damaged, and the stereo system missing. Cat arranged with Clay for the bike to be towed back to Teller Morrow. "I only trust Tig with the repair. I don't want some idiot in Stockton messin' with it," she stated.

She had another reason for having the Yamaha brought back to Charming. She hoped that if Alex did the work, it would eliminate any remaining suspicions he harbored about it's 'disappearance.'

When he saw the extent of the damage, Alex felt bad for doubting her. "I'm sorry, baby," he called in apology. "The timing of your bike's disappearance and the delay repairing mine seemed a little too convenient. I should've known better."

He made short work of the repairs to the ignition system and went over the rest of the bike to make sure it was in safe working order. He also installed a replacement stereo system because he knew how important music was to her when she rode.

Teller Morrow didn't perform body and paint work, so that repair had to be contracted out. That didn't prevent Tig from 'supervising' the workers. He arranged for a small detail to be added to either side of the gas tank: the letter 'C' in front of the symbol, with a half circle above the and cat ears and whiskers above the half circle. The entire design was intended to resemble a small cat.

"I love it, Alex!" she exclaimed when he unveiled the tank design to her. He also had the words 'Tig's Lady' painted on the back of the trunk. "Just so no one has any doubts about ownership," he'd growled possessively.

* * *

The next skirmish between SAMCRO and LOAN came shortly after '_Impeccable Smokes_' had it's grand opening. Zobelle's store attracted an exclusive clientele thanks to the rich leather chairs and classical music. The place gave off a 'high maintenance' impression and only highly priced cigars were sold. There were no cigarette brands of any kind, nor were cigars like 'Backwoods Smokes' or 'Swisher Sweets' offered_. _

Once_ Impeccable Smokes _opened, Clay decided to rattle Zobelle's chain. The Sons didn't extort protection money from local businesses. Zobelle didn't know that, and Clay was willing to make the cigar shop an exception to the rule.

Jacob Hale, a real estate developer and the Deputy Chief's brother, was no fan of the club. Every time he'd worked out a deal with a large corporation to move into town, the Sons had stopped it and caused him to lose a lot of money.

The day Clay decided to visit the shop, Zobelle and Jacob had been discussing ways to eliminate the Sons. Zobelle wasn't willing to do much for someone who wasn't affiliated with his group and gave Hale the name of LOAN's membership director.

Hale wanted Zobelle to take part in his latest land deal. Zobelle had been giving it careful consideration. His participation would depend upon Hale joining LOAN.

Clay rode out to the shop accompanied by Tig, Chibs, Jax, and Opie. Their Harleys roared down Main Street and parked in front '_Impeccable Smokes'. _ Clay indicated his companions should remain outside and nodded at Weston and another Aryan as he strode inside like he owned the place.

Hale beat a hasty exit as Clay walked in, his nostrils quivering in appreciation of the smell of the fine cigars. Despite the attractive aroma, Clay lay his cards on the table, making his demand of monthly protection money. To serve as first payment, he picked up three boxes of expensive cigars and a lone cigar for himself as he walked out the door, throwing a wry welcome over his shoulder at the fuming businessman.

Zobelle moved out from behind the counter, watching the Sons ride off. His aide, Weston, walked back into the store to tell him the attack on Otto was all set. The attack should serve as a warning to the Sons and humiliate Clay.

That news pleased Zobelle; he'd experienced a few setbacks where the motorcycle club was concerned. The first was when Gemma Morrow didn't report the gang rape to the police or her husband. The second came when his attempt to neutralize Trager had fallen through.

His sources had told him that Trager's 'old lady' had discovered LOAN's ties to the attempt on Trager. He hadn't forgotten that he needed to deal with the Marshall woman for deying him, but the Sons kept interfering. Ever since his ill-fated visit to '_Charming Pawse_', a member of the club was always around. If it wasn't the scarred Scotsman, then it was Trager or a nomad.

There was plenty of time to deal with the coffeehouse owner, however. He was patient. 'One thing I've learned over the years is to adjust and adapt,' he thought. 'That's something Weston will never learn, for all his value. Ule has enthusiastically embraced the concept. Perhaps it's time to put him to better use.'

There would come a itme when the club wasn't around to protect the Marshall woman. Then he would strike hard and fast. Unlike the Sons, Zobelle had no qualms about harming women. He could afford to let Clay Morrow believe he'd won this round. The battle was only beginning.

Clay had been asked by Chief Unser to meet with Elliot Oswald. The county was attempting to use imminent domain to seize a valueable parcel of land. Unser knew the club had been instrumental in getting justice for Oswald's daughter a few months ago, and knew the club could help where the legal system couldn't.

Clay, Tig, and Opie went out to Oswald's sprawling property to talk with him about the land seizure. Oswald reluctantly told Clay about the letter he received from the county zoning commission. Though the letter said a highway was planned, Oswald knew that Jacob Hale was developing houses and gathering investors. Clay offered to do a little digging and requested Oswald give him the commssion letter.

While they waited for Oswald to retrieve the letter, the riders discussed the attack that had been made by the Aryan brotherhood at the prison on Otto, resulting in the loss of his good eye. There would be a vote on retaliation later in the day. Clay had no doubt about Opie and Tig's vote. Opie knew his father would be against retaliation, and felt Chibs would vote the same way.

Clay ordered Tig to talk to Juice, who he felt would be the swing vote. Clay felt it was important for the club to strike back on Otto's behalf and that Jax would do everything possible to prevent them from retaliating.

Later that afternoon, Clay met Unser at Floyd's barber shop. Floyd was a friend of the club, and had no problem with stepping out for a smoke while Clay discussed the land matter with Unser. Unser didn't recognize any names, but offered to check with the city clerk's office, taking possession of the commission letter.

Tig and Opie were present during the discussion. Opie was watching the street while Tig was looking over a box of hair dye. 'Not that I have to worry about grey hair,' he mused as he studied the package.

Floyd's was directly across the street from a popular diner. Weston and two of his cronies left the diner and crossed the street towards the parked bikes. Opie called the others' attention to the oncoming menace. Tig threw the package into Unser's lap as the trio walked outside.

Tig glared at the approaching LOAN members, his hands curling into fists. He'd been itching for a fight since Zobell's clash with his lady. The attack on Otto had only added to his need to beat something or someone. To his surprise, Clay held him back, allowing Opie to lead the charge.

Jax and Gemma saw the oncoming brawl from up the street. Jax ordered her off his bike and raced in, pulling to a stop directly between Weston and Opie. A street brawl was the last thing either side needed; he wanted to try to keep the peace. As soon as Jax dismounted, Weston pushed the Dyna over and Jax retaliated. Clay stood on the sidewalk watching as his riders literally mopped up Main Street with Weston and his cronies.

Despite the limp, Tig was able to use his leg to effectively kick one of the haters right to the curb. Opie and Jax had no problem with their own assailants. As Gemma, Clay, Unser, and other townspeople watched the fight, they heard sirens wailing in the distance.

Unser told his deputy that Weston and company attacked first, but Hale didn't care who started the fight, and had Clay taken into custody as well. In his eyes, both sides were equally guilty and needed time to cool off.

After the miscreants were booked and placed in seperate cells, Unser confronted Hale about the arrest and that he knew Hale was in Zobell's pocket. Hale retaliated by stating the whole town knew Unser had been aligned with the club for years.

Hale didn't realize that he was Unser's hand picked successor because he made the department look a little less tarnished. Unser stated that impression wouldn't last if Hale sided with Zobelle in order to get ride of the club. The chief informed his deputy of what really happened to Gemma a month earlier.

The news had the desired effect. Though Clay had asked Unser not to mention the land situation to Hale, he shared the commission letter with his deputy anyway, who realized his brother was up to no good again.

The Sons and LOAN were released with a warning. Hale let Weston and his goons leave first, while Tig and Jax sardonically whistled a patriotic tune at their backs.

Once the LOAN men departed, Hale released the Sons, but asked to speak privately with Jax and Clay. He handed a large envelope to Jax that contained the pictures Zobelle had turned over to Hall of Clay's meeting with Laroy. The envelope also contained a DVD of the crank house bombing. Hale explained that Opie was clearly visible on the DVD leaving the house before it exploded.

Hale further separated himself from Zobelle by relating the details of his brother's previous attempt to scam land that his father, a judge, had squashed. Though Jacob hadn't been charged, a friend of his, who now served as an influential member of the zoning commission had also been involved. That information would be enough to save Oswald's land.

As Tig and Opie waited outside Charming PD, Tig drew out the two-way out to call his lady. 'Word's prolly gotten out. Don't need her storming Charming PD like she did that hospital.'

"You OK?" she asked. "I was gettin' ready to come down there to bail ya out."

"I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guy!"

She moaned softly. "The last time you said that, your face looked like it went through a blender!"

He laughed. "Not this time. The charges were dropped. So you don't have to go on the warpath against the police department."

"Very funny!" she growled. "Be happy I care enough to do so!" Her tone sobered, "Gemma called about the attack on Big Otto. Said she heard it from LuAnn and that LOAN was behind it. Do y'all think it was Zobelle's doing?"

"We _know_ it was. The guys that attacked Otto might've said it was LOAN, but LOAN is Zobelle. Why would they lie?"

"Considering they're in prison, that's one good reason for me to question their integrity. But you know how this kind of thing works better than me. Just watch your back, love."

"Likewise."

The meeting about reliation was short and difficult for Clay. He laid it on the line. The attack on Otto had been deliberately carried out as a message to the club. They had to retaliate swiftly and harshly. Doing nothing would send the wrong message.

The voting went as Clay expected, with Tig and Opie voting in favor, and Chibs and Piney against. Juice had heard from both Tig and Jax, but he sided with Clay. Jax had made no effort to hide his feelings on the matter, which left Bobby with the decisive ballot.

To Clay's surprise, Bobby voted against retaliation. He said it was the logical, safe vote. Zobelle was a different character from rival gang leaders, they needed more information on him before they acted.

For the motion to carry, there had to be a majority rule so the voting ended in a tie. Nobody felt any real satisfaction in the outcome. Clay and Bobby remained in the chapel as the others filed out in order to talk privately about Bobby's decision.

Tig was _not_ pleased. He felt that Jax was undermining Clay at every turn and didn't like it. 'Who the Hell can I talk to? Clay knows how I feel. There's no sense talking to Jax; he knows I don't trust him. Talking to the other guys will just make things worse. The only other person I can take into confidence is Cat."

He thought back to their first night together, when she'd told him she didn't want to know everything about the club. She was content with knowing only what he chose to tell her. 'Nah,' he decided. 'The last time the club interfered with our personal life wasn't good. This isn't somethin' she needs to know. It's club business.'

Tig was sitting on his bike, smoking as he considered his situation. The other riders were hanging around the garage, some on their bikes, others sitting at picnic tables.

The garage was still open for business. Though he still wore his cut, Chibs was directing the tow truck driver to maneuver a disabled van in front of an empty bay so he could check it out. According to the work sheet, the van wouldn't start.

Chibs got into the driver's side of the van and tried the ignition. It whined but the engine didn't turn over. When he released the key, the whine continued. It was a very familiar sound to him. He leapt from the van, yelling at the others to keep clear.

He hadn't gotten far when the van exploded. The force of the blast lifted Chibs from his feet, sending him flying through the air. He landed on the pavement, the back of his head struck the ground with a hard thump. He was out like a light, blood pouring from a gash in the back of his head.

* * *

"What's up, love?" Cat was sitting in the back yard, enjoying some peace and quiet when the two-way buzzed.

"We need you at the hospital. Chibs is being taken there. Zobell's people rigged a car bomb and it exploded on him."

"Oh, God! How bad?" She could hear a number of voices and the wail of a retreating siren in the background.

"Dunno. Tara says he's alive, but he's out cold and was bleeding from the back of the head. We'll be there later."

"I'm on it."

"Be careful. Keep me posted, babe."

"Back at ya, love."

She ran into the garage and retrieved Chibs' medical file from the safe, locking it in the Yamaha's trunk. She raced to the hospital, arriving at the same time as the ambulance.

To her surprise, Tara hadn't come with Chibs. As the on scene doctor, Cat had expected her to be there. She didn't have time to contemplate the doctor's absence, she had to get Chibs' forms taken care of. Seeing her friend's still, pale form scared her more than the thought of the explosion.

She approached the ER desk and explained she was Chibs' representative. She filled out the paperwork, using the file as a guide. She was partly glad she wasn't having to do this for Alex and partly ashamed for entertaining the thought. She had hoped she would never have to do this work for any of the guys, certainly not within a few days of being voted into the position!

'Where the Hell is Tara?' she thought as she filled out the forms. 'It'd help to know more about what happened.'

There was nothing else to do once she turned in the forms but wait, and she wasn't good at waiting patiently. She paced from one side of the waiting area to the other, waiting for the doctor to come out to talk to her; waiting for the club and Alex to join her.

Her thoughts returned to what little Alex had told her. 'Damn, if Zobelle _is_ behind the bombing, coming right after the attack on Otto, the guys' reaction will make my temper tantums look like a noisy dew!' She worried for their safety and for Chibs. 'He needs a friend, and I'm about the next closest friend he had besides the club,' she told herself.

She focused all her energy and concern on Chibs. The attending physician knew she was there, it was just a matter of time before he'd bring her news. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the ER doctor came out to talk to her. "He's stable, Ms. Marshall. We're listing him as critical."

"What's the bottom line, doctor?

"Mr. Telford landed hard on the back of his head, and that's caused a subdural hematoma to develop. There's considerable swelling, we want to see if it'll go down on its' own. If it does, we won't have to operate."

She nodded her understanding. "If it doesn't, you have to do what's necessary to save him. Is it OK for me to sit with him?"

"He's still unconscious, but I don't see any harm. Are you his girlfriend?"

"No. I'm Tig Trager's old lady. I'm pretty close to Fillip. He doesn't have family in the states. He's like a brother to me and I take care of the club's medical needs in situations like this."

"That's fine."

"And when the rest of the club shows up? They're his family, too."

"I'd like to keep the number of visitors to a minimum, so try to keep the visitors in the room to no more than two at a time."

Cat held out her hand to the doctor. "Thank you, doc."

She went to Chibs' room, pausing for a moment inside the door. His face was as white as the bandage wrapped around his head, making the scars on his face more pronounced. He was hooked up to monitors and IV's. An oxygen tube rested under his nose.

The sight took her back to the night Bill's life was measured by monitors until the alarm marked his passing. 'No! I'm _not_ goin' down that path!' she scolded herself. 'This situation is different! Bill's vitals never stabilized. It was a wonder he lasted long enough to reach the hospital. Chibs is stable.'

She resolutely walked to the bedside table and wrote down the telephone number. She then stepped out of the room and down the hall a few paces in order to use the two-way. Alex's voice mail answered. "He's in critical condition, love, but he's stable. The room phone number is 555-2341. You won't be able to reach me on the two-way; I'm turning it off so it won't interfere with the monitoring equipment. Call the room if you need to reach me. I'll see you when I see you."

She wanted to say more, but he had enough on his mind. She refused to add to it with a plea for attention. He'd join her as soon as he was able. She turned off the two-way, returned to Chibs' room and pulled a chair up to the bedside. She sat down and lay her hand on his arm.

Alex's outgoing voice mail had been cryptic, but told her a lot. "We're having church to discuss what happened to Chibs. I suspect it'll go better than the last 'discussion'. We'll be there later."

She took that to mean that the club had voted about Otto, and it hadn't gone well, but the club would now be in favor of retaliation. She knew the men felt this was something they had to do. After what Zobelle pulled on Alex, Otto and now Chibs, she understood the feeling.

A couple of hours later, Alex joined her in the vigil at Chibs' bedside. He'd brought some soup, because he knew she wouldn't go to the cafeteria if it meant leaving Chibs alone. He'd also heard the underlying stress in her voice when he listened to her message. He knew how hard this was for her and why. He held her close in order to share some of his strength with her.

"Have you been to the house?"

"Yeah. The cats are fed. The house is fine. How are _you_?"

"I'm doin' better than he is. Damn, a frackin' car bomb! What were they tryin' to do, blow the whole lot of you to Kingdom Come?"

"They wanted to make a point. It could've been any of us. It could've taken out the whole garage. Chibs heard the damn thing arm when he tried to start the van. If he hadn't, he'd be lying in the morgue."

Cat buried her head in Alex's chest. "I wouldn't wish this on _anyone_, but I thank God it's not you lyin' there," she whispered.

"That makes two of us, baby." He looked her directly in the eye before adding, "you don't have to stay if it's gonna hurt you."

She shook her head. "It was only difficult when I first saw him hooked up to all this stuff. I'm OK." She looked up at him, her expression resolute, "You don't have to worry that I'll fall to pieces when you leave to take care of Zobelle."

'She knows!' He thought in surprise. 'I don't know how she figured it out, but she has. She's telling me she's OK with our decision.'

They stayed with Chibs the remainder of the night. The phone was turned off at 11pm. Most of the club had stopped in to check on Chibs, but didn't stay long out of respect for the doctor's request.

Every time a nurse entered the room, Cat woke up to inquire on his progress. His vitals remained strong, but the swelling was slow about going down. Tara eventually checked in during the very early morning. It was the first time Cat had any direct contact with Jax's old lady.

She rose quietly from the chair she shared with Alex to talk to the doctor. 'Best to let Alex sleep. He's no fan of Tara, no need to put any undue stress on Chibs with tension between these two,' she thought as she followed Tara to the hallway. "Tell me what's goin' on with him, Tara, but in layman's terms."

"He's stronger, but the swelling is still a concern. We're going to give it a few more hours. If things don't change, we'll have to go in surgically to remove the pressure on his brain."

"Ask, and ye shall receive," Cat yawned.

"You've been here since Chibs was brought in," Tara observed.

"He needs his friends. Given the circumstances, it's easier for me to be here. Besides, he's been a good friend to me."

Tara lay a comforting hand on Cat's shoulder. "He's lucky to have friends like you. Thanks for taking on the guys medical info, by the way. It'll be good for them to have another ally."

"I'm just the medical liasion, Tara. Naturally, where your old man's concerned – "

Tara lifted a hand, cutting her off. "That doesn't worry me. You met with all the riders who aren't married or have 'old ladies', but not Jax and Clay. I took the liberty of writing up Jax's medical information for you. If I'm not available, it's comforting to know his immediate medical needs will be in good hands," she handed a folder to Cat as she spoke.

Cat opened it and glanced through the papers. The file contained Clay's info as well. She gave Tara a questioning look.

"Gemma feels the same way. We're not threatened by your position with the club. We're more than happy to have you looking out for our men when we can't. Welcome to SAMCRO."

"Maybe we should consider getting an 'old ladies' support group," Cat replied jokingly.

Tara laughed softly. "A support group sounds good. though I like your idea of an 'old ladies' handbook. Gemma told me about that one. I don't know what kind of arrangement you have with Tig; it's none of my business. I can tell you this, on the job training is difficult." She lay an undestanding hand on Cat's arm before leaving to attend to other patients.

Cat watched the doctor walk away, reflecting on all she'd learned. It helped to know that she had Gemma's and Tara's support. 'Tara's right. OJT is a pain in the ass. So is this stuff of knowin' only what Alex thinks I need to know. It ain't workin'. It was fine when we were just startin' out. My view about the club needs to change, too.'

She returned to the room and stopped by Chibs' bedside for a moment. His face wasn't as pale, but he was still unconscious. 'At least his vitals are improvin'.' she thought, laying a comforting hand on the Scotsman's cheek.

She moved over to stand next to Alex. She reached down and smoothed his hair. 'Poor baby, he's been through a lot lately. I get the impression that things involving the club have been difficult, and he's kept his feelings to himself out of respect for my wishes. I've gotta start bein' more supportive of him, not a hinderance. Otherwise, it'll be a repeat of Bill.'

Alex appeared to be sleeping soundly, so it surprised her when he opened one eye and growled, "I still don't trust that gash!"

"Shhh! Go back to sleep, love," she chided softly, settling on the floor beside the chair.

He stretched, yawned, and held his hand out to her, pulling her into his arms. "No you don't. Floor's too cold for that. C'mere." He drew her next to him, sleepily nuzzling her neck. "How's he doin'?"

"A little better, but not out of the woods yet. His vitals have been stable, but the swellin' isn't goin' down. Surgery might still be necessary."

"Are you staying?" He was more awake, and more aware of her proximity. 'Damn shame we can't do anything about it, but not in front of a sleeping brother!'

"As long as necessary. Someone needs to be with him, that's what y'all elected me to do."

He nodded his understanding. "It's important he knows we're in his corner, even though we're not here. We're going to find Zobell, and when we do –"

"Y'all will do what y'all have to do," she finished for him. She lay her head on his shoulder, wishing she didn't have a bad feeling about what lay ahead. She sighed and slipped into an uneasy sleep. Alex held her and listened to her breathing, then relaxed and was soon asleep again.

Later that morning, while Chibs remained comatose, Tig awoke and used the room phone to call the coffeehouse. He updated Anna on Chibs' status, "Cat's likely to be here most of the day, so copy down the room phone number." Once he was sure she had noted it, he added, "Would you have a thermos of coffee ready for me to pick up in a bit? Cat doesn't deserve to drink that hospital swill."

"Sure thing, Mr. Trager. I'll include one of her scones and your favorite muffin."

"Thanks," he replied. He hung up the phone and gently woke Cat. "I'm gonna run an errand, baby, but I'll be back shortly."

"OK," she murmured, stretching and going right back to sleep. She was lightly snoring before he reached the door. He returned 20 minutes later, carrying a thermos of coffee, a smaller bag from the store, and a duffle bag.

"How'd you manage to carry all that on the bike?" she inquired sleepily when he woke her and she saw all the things he'd brought.

"The PT's outside. I'll take it back when I leave." He handed the duffle bag to her. "Thought you might want a change of clothes. Get going, before I get other ideas about that bathroom."

"I'm surprised you haven't already," she replied. He'd changed clothes during his absence so she decided to take full advantage of the bathroom to freshen up. Alex hadn't brought soap, so she had to use the stuff the hospital provided.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Alex had a cup of coffee ready for her, as well as one of her scones. The sight of the scone made her tear up again.

"He's going to be OK, baby. He's tough," Alex consoled her. "He'll be back in the cat room with Misty in no time."

"Don't know why I'm bein' such a leaky faucet," she replied apologetically.

"Because you love him as much as you do your step-brother. I'd be more concerned if you weren't a bit upsset."

They ate in silence, both thinking of what lay ahead for the club and choosing not to discuss it. There'd be a time and place for that later. 'She's acknowledged she understands why we aren't keeping vigil here. Something's changed her attitude. I don't know what brought it about, but I'm kinda glad of it."

"Thanks for understandin' how I feel, love. And for spendin' an uncomfortable night with me."

He shrugged off her gratitude. "You know we're gonna be looking for Zobell. I might not be able to answer the phone, but you call with _any _news."

"I will. You have the room phone number. You'll call when you can. Be safe, love. See ya when I see ya."

He held her face in his hands, gazing at her as if he wanted to memorize her face before he kissed her goodbye. She hoped it wasn't for the last time.

Tig returned the PT to the house then took off on his Harley in search of Zobelle. His first stop was '_Impeccable Smokes_', but the store was closed. A sign on the door apologized for the inconvenience, stating the store was closed for the day.

He tried a couple of other places Zobelle and his cronies were known to frequent, including the diner across from Floyd's. No one had seen Zobelle or Weston.

He returned to Teller-Morrow, arriving at the same time as Opie. They reported to Clay that they'd had no luck so far.

Jax had retreated to the clubhouse roof to write in his journal while the other riders were inside. No one noticed a white van pull into the drive or that Edmond Hayes was nosing about 'ground zero' until the Charming police officers guarding the burned out van ran him off. The forensics team from Lodi was due anytime and the officers were there to keep the crime scene as intact as possible.

The cops' yells brought the Sons out to confront the young IRA man. He admitted he'd heard of the incident on the news and was concerned about their deal. The explosion could bring the ATF back to town, and that could hinder their operation.

Though Clay and Bobby attempted to portray the incident as an industrial accident, Edmond Hayes wasn't convinced. The Sons wouldn't back down from their story and he was forced to accept it for the moment.

'I grew up aroond the stench o' explosives, that van reeks o' it,' he thought. 'That'll bring out the ATF fur shure.' He pulled out his cellphone and called his father. "It's not good, Da. We'd best take the meetin' with that new distributor. The Sons are compromised, whether they want ta admit it or not."

"I'll set it up," his father replied.

Clay watched the van leave, his face etched in stone. He should've had the area cleaned hours ago, instead of allowing CPD to set up camp and wait for the Lodi CSI team. There might still be time to fix that. Unser agreed to send his men on a food run so Juice could power clean the bomb site.

Though neither Tara nor Cat had reported any change in Chibs' condition, Jax offered to go to the hospital to make a presence for the club. Tig glared at the VP, wondering what he was up to. 'He knows our old ladies are there. If anything changes, they'll call. He's up to something.' Clay had already given Jax the go-ahead, so Tig kept his suspicions to himself.

Opie warned that Jax wasn't completely in agreement with retalition and probably had his own agenda. Clay agreed to let Opie shadow Jax, but the VP evaded his old friend. Opie didn't that Jax had agreed the night before to work with Hale to capture Zobelle in order to protect the club.

Unser had given Weston's address to Clay, so they went out to find him, and perhaps get a lead on Zobelle. Opie caught up with the club a few yards from Weston's home. They were walking up the dirt road when they heard gunshots and picked up their pace. They were surprised to find Hale running towards the front of the house. He informed them that Jax had gone around to the back of the house.

The riders pumped bullets into the house, thinking they were protecting Jax. They couldn't hear Jax yelling that there were kids inside. Once Bobby and Clay got inside the house and saw the kids, Bobby yelled at the others to cease fire. The more daring of Weston's kids fired a gun directly into Jax's stomach, but the gun was empty.

While Hale dealt with Child Protective Services in securing Weston's kids, the club searched the house. Happy found a laptop that was password protected. The club confiscated it. Clay knew Juice and Happy would be able to access whatever secrets the computer held.

Tig received a call on the prepaid from Unser with bad news. He'd been unable to keep the Lodi CSI squad from combing through the burned out van. 'Shit! Is _anything_ going to go right today?' he thought, checking the two-way's voice mail. 'Damn! Nothing new about Chibs!'

Nurses came in and out at regular intervals checking Chibs' vitals, but he remained unconscious. Tara had not been back in to check on him. None of the club had been in or called since Alex left.

Late in the day, a doctor came in to check on Chibs. "Good news, Ms. Marshall. The swelling has diminished considerably. Surgery is no longer a consideration."

"So why is he still unconscious?"

"That's normal with head wounds. He should wake up in the next few hours. If not, we'll run tests. For now, rest is the best thing for him. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not about to leave him to wake up and find himself alone. I'll stay," she replied.

She did step outside the room long enough to call the two-way. "Hey, love, good news!" she spoke cheerily to the voice mail. "The swellin's gone down, so no surgery. Chibs is still out, but the doc says that's normal. Be safe. See ya when I see ya."

After another round of riding all over town looking for Zobelle and Weston, Tig stopped for gas and checked the two-way for any word about Chibs. He listened to the voice mail twice. 'Finally!' He rode back to the club to share the word.

He'd just told Clay the good news about Chibs when Juice and Happy announced they'd found something on Weston's computer. A cryptic entry for that evening, 'EZ, MCC.'

"Ethan Zobelle," Tig growled.

"Morado Community Center," Clay added.

The riders left their cuts in the clubhouse and walked outside. Some piled into the van, Tig and Opie went to their bikes. Jax was in the garage working on an engine and asked what was going on. Bobby advised him where they going and why.

Jax had already learned from Hale where Zobelle would be that evening, but had opted not to share it with the club to protect them. 'They must've gotten it from that damn laptop!'

As he waited to follow the van, Tig left a message for Cat on the two-way. "We have a lead on Zobelle and are going to check it out. I'll be late, so don't wait up, baby." He started his bike and he and Opie followed the van as Jax ran to his own bike.

The room television was on playing softly for company. The ongoing silence had gotten on Cat's nerves after Alex left. '_Tender Years_', from the _Eddie and the Cruisers_ soundtrack was playing on the cable classified channel which broadcast a local radio station she liked. She was curled up in the chair she'd shared with Alex, which she'd moved next to Chibs' bed.

She'd been sitting there since she'd called Alex with the good news. Gemma had been in for a bit, reassured that Chibs was out of danger. Cat wasn't aware that she'd fallen asleep until she felt the arm under her hand move. She was instantly alert and looked up at the Scotsman's face. Chibs eyes were open at last!

"Wh-where am I?" His voice was dry and raspy.

"You're in the hospital, darlin'. You thirsty?"

"Lady Cat?"

"That's right, darlin'. You're gonna be OK." She raised the bed up a little, then held a cup for him and placed the bendable straw to his lips so he could drink without getting water all over him. The water was wet and cold and the sweetest thing he'd tasted in some time.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He thought for a moment, then whispered "I tried ta start a disabled van, heard the sound of a bomb armin' and ran. That's all I remember."

She patted his arm. "It's enough," she replied.

"Wh-where's everboody?"

"Out looking for Zobelle. They're all as mad as a nest of angry hornets." She gave him some more water. He lay back against the pillows, sighed, and closed his eyes.

"You go ahead and rest, darlin'," Cat whispered, turning off the television. She brushed a hand against his cheek and walked out of the room, turning on the two-way. She frowned as she listened to Alex's message. She called back to let him know Chibs was awake and remembered what had happened, adding "This phone tag ain't much fun, love. I'm headin' home. Be safe. See ya when I see ya."

She went to the nurses' station to advise them that Chibs had awakened and remembered the incident so they could tell the doctor. "He took a couple of sips of water and went back to sleep. I'm goin' home for awhile. Please call me if anything happens."

Cat went home to take care of the cats and check on business matters. She turned on the stereo for company, choosing a tape of instrumental selections from Enigma and Deep Forest. The tape also had selections from several movies she liked, including the celebration music from _Star Wars VI_, and the ending music to the_ 'It's Magic' _episode of a show called 'Level 9'.

She grew concerned that Alex hadn't called as she reviewed orders from the web page and worked on the coffeehouse Facebook page. It had been hours since he'd left the message for her about the lead on Zobelle.

She called Chibs before the hospital phones closed for the night. "I'm fine, darlin'," he assured her, though his voice was still weak. "I've had some soop, jell-o, and some tay that tasted like shit. No need fer ye to coom back tonight. Get yerself sum decent sleep."

"Ok, then. I'll see ya in the mornin'," she replied, not wanting to tire him with an argument. She made a mental note to bring some tea from the coffeehouse.

Cat glared at the two-way. She didn't like to call it when Alex was on club business unless it was absolutely necessary. Calling to ask if he were OK wasn't what she considered necessary. 'He'll call when he can,' she consoled herself. 'If I call and get voice mail, it'll just make me more antsy.'

She'd gotten up to stretch and feed the cats when she heard the welcome sound of a Harley pulling into the drive. She rushed to the door only to find Opie walking onto the porch. She held the door open for him to enter and could tell by his bearing that something was wrong.

"What's happened, Opie?"

"Everybody's OK, but they're in the county jail; SJCCF. They won't be home for awhile."

She gestured for him to sit and gave him a beer. He accepted both with a tired nod and began to recount how the club had gotten arrested.

"Juice was able to access a laptop we found and discovered a calendar entry about Zobelle being at the Morado Christian Center. We had a staging point not far from there. Tig and I did an outside check and it _seemed_ to match the calendar entry. Jax told us Zobelle was having a recruitment rally for LOAN and that Hale had alerted the sheriff's department. Clay opted to go in anyway. We walked in ready to go up against a hate group only to find a bunch of families at dinner!"

Cat paced the living room as he spoke. "Didn't any of you think of_ looking _inside before bargin' in like a bunch of cowboys?"

"The blinds were closed! We saw a couple of Aryans standing guard at the front, so it seemed right to us!"

"Tig couldn't think of crackin' the damn door open enough to make sure? What the Hell was he thinkin?"

Opie shrugged. "Guess we weren't thinking about anything except getting Zobelle."

"No shit!" Cat replied, seething that the club fell so easily into Zobelle's trap and not caring that she wasn't being respectful. "So how come you're not in jail?

Opie had already been through a similar grilling from Gemma, as he'd gone to her with the news first. 'Gemma was a little more understanding. I really don't appreciate Cat's attitude. I can't snap at her, if Tig ever found out I'd lashed out at her in their home, there'd be Hell to pay!' He settled for glaring at her, but that didn't intimidate her.

"I tried to catch Zobelle. He and his goon sped off in Zobelle's car. I chased them through town, but lost 'em when they ran a stop sign and I had to swerve to avoid an oncoming car and hit a parked one. By the time I got back to the center, the sheriff's department had all the guys in cuffs."

Cat's anger cooled in hearing of Opie's accident. "Did you get hurt?"

"No, I'm OK."

She nodded and resumed pacing. "When will bail get set?"

"Not until morning. Gemma's got a call into Rosen, they'll probably know more then. I'm going back with the flatbed to get Tig's and Jax's bikes, and move the van to a parking lot at the SJCCF. Want me to bring Tig's bike here?"

She shook her head. "He'd prefer it stay at the garage while he's gone. You need help with the bikes?"

"No, I've got it. Tig would want you to stay where you're safe tonight. He might be able to call you later."

"I'm sorry for goin' off on you, Ope. It's not all ya'll's fault for getting suckered."

Opie felt his anger drain with the apology and outspoken concern. He finished the last of the beer before replying, "Thanks. With Chibs and Prospect in the hospital and the others in jail, it's gonna be tight at the garage."

"I hear you. If you need help with oil changes and simple shit, give me a call. Thanks for comin' out and tellin' me personally, Ope."

He handed over the empty beer bottle and stood up, heading for the door. "Good night, Cat," he replied over his shoulder as he strode to his bike.

She forwarded calls from her personal cell phone to the two-way and recorded a new message accepting collect calls. Cat then grabbed her jacket and ran out the door. She had a bone to pick with Deputy Chief Hale about the club's arrest. She was on the warpath and wanted answers, so she rode straight to police headquarters.

She demanded to speak with Hale if he was still on duty. She didn't shout, but the uniformed officers could see that she was hissed off. The dispatcher called Hale, who had her brought directly to his office.

"I heard about the arrest and I'm sorry," he said once the door closed behind them.

"Sorry? The club is in jail and might not survive until bond gets posted! I hope you're proud of yourself!"

"Ms. Marshall, I know you're upset, but you--"

"It's no secret that you've been lookin' for a way to get rid of the Sons!" Cat continued angrily, cutting off Hale's explanation. "You know damn good and well that Zobelle was behind the car bomb at the garage! You just couldn't wait to tell the county boys that they could catch the guys at the Christain Center, knowing what would happen!"

"Sit down and shut up!" Hale shouted. "You don't know what really happened! I told the sheriff's department to go after Zobelle, not the club! Jax knew what I was doing because he's been working with me since last night!"

That news made Cat sit down in astonishment. 'Jax workin' _with_ Hale? What kind of nightmare is this?'

Hale saw the effect his news had on the angry businesswoman. His voice took on a softer tone when he continued. "That's right, Ms. Marshall. Jax agreed to work with me to protect the club. Zobelle's daughter, Polly, told me her father was having a recruitment rally at the MCC. I shared it with Jax, but he chose not to share it with the club, knowing they'd go after Zobelle. They found out somehow. The original plan was for the sheriff's department to catch Zobelle, and hold him for 24 hours. I'd question him, and give the club time to cool down."

She frowned as she contemplated Hale's story. It still didn't make sense to her that Jax would keep quiet until the club was near the MCC. 'The guys were pissed. Surely they weren't so blinded by revenge that they'd put themselves in jeopardy! They're not that dumb!'

"We both know it wasn't a recruitment rally, but some kind of family religious gathering," Cat replied carefully. "How could you have taken Zobelle's brat at her word? It's obvious that she lied to you. What are y'all gonna do about it?"

"She's in protective custody now so she couldn't warn Zobelle. I might file charges."

"Might?" Cat leaped to her feet and started pacing. She wanted to smack the tar out of the lawman. "If it were me, or Gemma, or one of the guys, there'd be no 'might' about it!"

"No one told them to go off half cocked and hunt Zobelle! They made that decision themselves. I suppose you aren't aware that they shot up Weston's house today!"

Cat didn't know about that, but felt there was no need to acknowledge it. "Who the Hell is Weston?"

"Zobelle's guard dog, the guy with the bushy eyebrows. Tig and the rest of the club came after him while Jax and I were there to question him about the explosion. The guys damn near shot Weston's kids!"

"Did they _know_ there were kids in the house before they fired?" Though the thought of kids being in the line of fire bothered her, she knew the guys wouldn't willingly fire at children.

"Not until Jax was in the house and saw them," Hale admitted. "The older Weston kid actually tried to shoot Jax."

"Jesus Christ! Anyone get hurt?"

Hale shook his head. "No, but it was close. Weston's kids are with CPS. To tell you the truth, that one kid scares me. Not even 11 years old, able to handle a gun and willing to kill. The other one seemed more – well -- more like a kid."

"Damnation!" She ran a hand through her hair, stunned to learn that someone so young was so full of hate. At least she now had a name to go with the goon who'd tried to intimidate Anna: Weston. 'That doesn't change the situation at hand,' she thought, realizing that yelling and screaming at each other wasn't going to solve anything. Hale might throw her in a cell if she didn't back off.

She took a deep breath before she spoke. "I'll admit to bein' pissed at the guys for not bein' more careful. They acted like a posse in the wild west, when a little more caution was needed. Tig's gonna hear from me on that one--if I get the chance. The bottom line is that the guys are locked up, and that's not good!"

"Look, Ms. Marshall, I know this is upsetting. The whole thing is a mess, and I'm sorry the guys got arrested, whether you believe me or not," Hale replied. "Zobelle's daughter isn't going to get off scot free, I promise you that."

"I'd hope not. In her own way, she's as bad as her father and just as dangerous. She obviously worships him and will do whatever he asks of her."

Hale opened the door for her. "Go home, try not to worry. The guys will be OK. Bail will be set and your man will be out before you know it."

Cat didn't share Hale's optimism, though she kept her thoughts to herself. She thought she knew how to handle bozos like Zobelle, but it was becoming clear to her the separationist was as connected as Alex believed him to be. That meant anything could happen and it wouldn't be good.

She rode home feeling no better than before she stormed Charming PD. She wanted her man home and safe, and she wanted Zobelle and his hoarde out of town. As she stood on the footrests, letting the wind blew in her face, an idea began to form to make life in Charming as difficult for Zobelle as possible. The idea would involve the community in a peaceful manner if she could make it work.

She lay on the bed when she returned home, cuddling with the cats and thinking over her idea. The two-way buzzed, and she immediately picked it up. Tears welled in her eyes as she heard Alex's pre-recorded voice announce "Collect from Tig."

"I accept!"

It seemed to take forever for the connection to be made, but she was eventually greeted with his voice. "Hey, baby. I'm OK, but we're involuntary guests of the county."

"I got a _personal_ news bulletin this evenin'. Are you aware that there are little pitchers with big ears listenin'?" She hoped he'd realize she was telling him she knew the call was being monitored.

'Good girl!' he thought, catching on immediately. "I hear ya, babe. You're upset."

She inwardly sighed in relief. "I'm not real pleased, but this isn't the time to go into it," she replied. "We'll discuss _that _in private when we're together again."

"I'm lookin' forward to private time with ya, babe," he replied softly.

"I'm gonna get you out on bail as soon as it's set." She continued.

"Unless we can _all_ get out, don't."

Damn! "Guess we'll see what the bail's gonna be. The bikes are on their way back to the garage. Did you get both messages?"

"Just the one. How's our boy?"

"Awake. Wish you'd gotten the second message before the county invited you to visit, love. Y'all were set up."

Alex was relieved to hear her say that. His fist closed tightly around the receiver, wishing he was holding her instead of a cold piece of plastic. "We found that out too late. I'm glad you realize it."

"I _knew_ it as soon as I got the bulletin."

"Listen, baby, I can't stay on the line any longer. The guards are giving me the eyeball. You be careful. He's still out there. Keep safe and take care of yourself. _**Eat something**_. I know how you get."

"I will. I promise. Watch your back, love. I'll miss you."

"Same here, baby. Sleep well. Good night." The line went dead. She put the phone on the charger and lay back on the bed, gazing at the photo on her table. The cats curled up next to her as she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

The following day was a long and difficult one for the women of SAMCRO. Cat had to meet with the hospital accounting department about Chibs and was unable to be present when Gemma and Tara met with Rosen.

Gemma filled her in by phone later that morning. "Bail is in the seven figures for them and no court date has been set," Gemma explained. "Rosen says there's tape showing the guys walking in with guns drawn and families running for their lives. Two shots were fired."

"We know the guys were caught off guard by finding families instead of Aryans. They certainly didn't get off any shots," Cat replied. "It was likely Zobelle or one of his goons that fired."

"We know that, but proving it is a whole different matter."

"I had a little talk with Hale last night. Zobelle definitely set 'em up. His daughter told Hale the meeting at the community center was a membership rally for the League. Hale told Jax about it but for some reason, Jax didn't tell the guys until it was too late."

"Shit!" Gemma didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Hale tipped off the sheriff's office about the so-called membership rally. Our guys were sitting ducks. Then Hale had the balls to tell me he 'might' file charges on Miss Nazi. He had the bitch in protective custody so she wouldn't warn her pappy."

"Son of a bitch! He 'might' charge her?"

"Well," Cat admitted grimly, "I talked him into giving it a more due consideration. If he does let her loose without some kind of charge, she'll find out how sharp my claws are!"

"Let me know if you want somebody to hold her down for you," Gemma replied, thinking of her own antipathy for the girl.

"I hope Rosen can get a copy of that tape that isn't adulterated. Maybe someone in the crowd would be willing to testify that the guys never fired. I'd like to see it myself to see if its' been doctored."

"You're the next best person to be able to tell, with Juice locked up. I just don't see how we can get 300 grand together. Tara and I can put up our homes and the garage, but that's not gonna be enough."

"I'm ahead of you. Most of my money is invested and hard to get to. I put in an application for a $250 thousand loan this morning. Had a feelin' bail was gonna be high. Haven't heard back yet."

"Damn, Cat!" Gemma cried in astonishment. "That's one Hell of a limb you're sitting on. Seems unfair for you to carry all the other guys."

"Tig called last night. Said if they can't all get out, he wouldn't let me post his. That's what had me thinkin' about applyin' for a large sum."

"Clay's the same way. Frankly, I can't blame them. They're walking targets. I still can't believe you'd go to such lengths for the guys."

"Isn't that what families do? If it gets all the guys out safe, it's worth it. It's not like they're gonna skip town on me."

"That's true. I hope it pans out. Give Chibs my love."

"Will do. Talk to ya later."

Cat wasn't sure how much money was in the Indiana bank account. When she'd wired for the money to set up the medical account, there was close to 100 grand. 'I need to make that money work better for us, interest won't accumulate fast enough to replenish what's goin' out at this rate.'

She placed a call to her financial planner and asked him to take over the account and move it to funds that would generate more working capital. The man had been working for her for years and she trusted his financial wisdom as well as his honesty. He had come at the highest possible recommendation; he was her father's investment broker. He'd proved his worth many times over and had never told her father a thing about her financial dealings with him.

"Sure, Cat. We can make the switch within an hour, and you'll earn a better rate of return without having to touch the principal."

"I'll still need money available at a moment's notice, maybe about ten grand. With the ups and downs of the business, it'd be helpful to have a handy cash flow," she added.

"We can do that," he assured her.

"That's why I count on you."

She'd met with the hospital accounting department and signed an affidavit of financial responsibility for any treatment Chibs would need that wasn't covered by critical care the hospital had to give. Chibs had let his insurance coverage lapse due to the cost. She requested that the information be kept between her and the accounting department. There was no need for anyone else to know. She would tell Chibs so he wouldn't worry.

She decided to check things out at the coffeehouse. The loan company hadn't called yet and she was getting fidgety again. She really didn't have to check on the staff, but she felt it wise to keep them on their toes by appearing when they least expected it.

All her staff were present when she walked in. There was a lull between the lunch and after school crowd. Cat took that as a good sign to discuss her idea of turning the town against Zobelle with her employees.

She first broke the news about the arrest. "They acted like a bunch of vigilantes and got themselves arrested for disturbin' the peace," she added wryly. "The DA is takin' a hard line because they're a motorcycle club, so bail is pretty steep. That's why we won't be seeing them for awhile."

"Will we be OK, Miss Cat?" Anna inquired worriedly.

"I know what you're thinkin', Anna. You're afraid that Zobelle and his bunch could try somethin' with the guys jacked up. Watch yourselves. There's only Piney and Opie to deal with the garage until Kip and Chibs get out of the hospital. We're on our own protection wise, unless some of the nomads can step up, and I don't know how to contact them."

The staff nodded their understanding, and while Anna seemed worried, she didn't ask for time off until the shop could be fully protected again. Cat appreciated the girl's loyalty and bravery.

"That leads me to another thing. Y'all know that Ethan Zobelle is a bigot masquerading as a genteel businessman. We could try to fight on his level, but I believe that we - and by we I mean the people of Charming - are better than that."

"Just what are you thinking of doing, Miss Cat?" Pete asked.

"I'd like one of our karoke nights to be a peace rally, emphasizing songs that highlight acceptance, national pride, peace and love and all manner of groovy things. The whole idea is to make the townspeople aware that we're not going to allow Zobelle's group to flourish."

"I can check through the song library for titles that match," Pete replied.

"Miss Cat, my kids think the world of you for standing up for me against that man," Anna said. "They'll be willing to make posters to put up, and their Sunday youth group would likely help out. We can ask the businesses to put the posters in their windows."

"Could we run an ad in the paper as well?" JR asked.

"No ads. They might do a feature interest story. Also check with the radio stations, see if we can get Public Service Announcements aired." Their input lifted her spirits; she could tell they were excited by the idea.

"We'll start talking about it to the customers today, get their interest going in it," Adrian, her newest employee added. "There's no better advertisement than word of mouth, and the sooner we start, the

more interest we can generate."

"That'll really stick in that asshole's craw!" Chris Johns added, a wide smile on his face.

"I've got some ideas of my own for opening the event with a bang of sorts. One other thing, I appreciate how y'all have stepped up while Mr. Chibs has been in the hospital. You're a great bunch of employees."

"How is he?" Pete asked.

"He's awake, and out of danger. I'll give him your regards."

The cats heard her through the window and were rapping their paws against it, wanting her attention. She stepped into the cat room to give them hugs and treats and some play time before driving back to the hospital. She brought a cup of tea, a scone, and a couple of books for Chibs. Knowing him, the hospital television would drive him stir crazy in minutes.

When she got to his room, he was sitting up and flipping through the limited channels the hospital offered. She heard him mutter "Drek!" as he surfed through the channels. He didn't even like the music channel she'd listened to the day before.

"That's why Ed Murrow called TV a vast wasteland, my boy," she observed, leaning against the door frame. His color was better than the day before.

"Who?"

"Edward R. Murrow, a distinguished CBS newscaster, my idol."

"Never 'eard o' 'im," Chibs replied.

"Surely you read or heard about the 'This Is London' radio broadcasts? The man who made Senator Joe McCarthy look foolish by using the politician's own words against him?"

"All before my time, darlin', but he's right about TV. Waste bein' the ooperative wurd." He grinned and turned off the television.

She help up the tall cup of tea and the pastry bag for him to see. His eyes lit up with anticipation. "Please tell me that's '_Charming Pawse' _tay! The shit they call tay tastes like warm piss with a brown crayon dipped in it!"

"Have you ever tasted warm piss?" she asked. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know!" She set the tea on his table, allowing him the pleasure of opening the lid. "It's a little cooler than you're used to," she said apologetically.

He took an appreciative sniff, then sipped some of the liquid. "It tastes like Hevin, Lady Cat." He opened the bag and his smile widened. "Ach! A scone! Yer an angel! All that's missin' is wee Miss Misty."

"Maybe next time, brother. Don't want to overwhelm you."

He munched on his scone and swallowed some more tea. "The nurses said yer were here from the minnit I was brought in."

"It's true. Tig was here most of the night, too."

"Where _are_ the guys? No one's called or been by since you left last night."

Cat's face momentarily clouded over. She wondered if he were strong enough to deal with the bad news.

As if reading her mind, he said "I'm not** that **bad off, milady. What's happened?"

She made a quick decision. He'd hear about it one way or the other. Best he hear it from her. "The guys are at the SJCCF. They were arrested last night after being set up by Zobelle at the Morado Christain Center. Bail's in the six figures for all six of 'em."

"Six?" Chibs looked incredulous. "Tig? Clay?"

"Bobby, Juice, Happy, and Jax. Opie didn't get arrested because he was chasin' Zobelle. The fucktard got away."

"Better tell me the whole story," Chibs replied.

She told him everything she'd learned from Tig, Hale, Opie, and Gemma. "It's a frackin' mess, brother."

"It is at that, milady. When will you hear about the bail money?"

"I hoped to have heard somethin' by now. Gemma and Tara can handle their men, leaving me with Tig and the others. Clay and Tig won't bail out if the other guys are left behind. I understand why."

"But I can tell you'd rather he took bond," Chibs squeezed her hand in sympathy. "We seem to be puttin' an awful lot on ye lately."

"Y'all are my friends. By the way, I hope you'll be up and out of here for the next karoke night. It's guaranteed to turn the whole town against Zobelle."

"Whut are ye plannin' gurl?" Chibs eyed her warily.

She outlined the peace and patriotism theme of the venue and her staff's eager support of the idea.

"You really think that moosic is gonna make people anti-Zobelle?"

"Not just music. Zobelle's own words are going to be his undoing. I'm going to borrow a note from my idol's book."

"That I gotta see. So will the guys."

"I hope all y'all will be able to be there. By the way, don't worry about your treatment once your status changes. The medical account has you covered. You're stayin' right here until you're cleared to leave."

"Thanks, Lady Cat."

"You have my cell number. Call me if you need anything. You rest, and I'll check in on you later." She warmly grasped his hand, only to be drawn to him in a brotherly hug.

"You be careful, Lady Cat. Zobelle and his creeps are still out there. You could be in danger."

"Don't worry, darlin'. Tig's made sure I know how to protect myself. I'll see ya later."

She finally received the call from the loan company, but it was bad news. They would only allow her enough to get Tig and one other rider out of jail. "Look, I'm good for it! The money's just tied up in my investments!"

"We're sorry, Ms. Marshall. If your business were established for more than a few months, we'd feel more comfortable. This is a sizable bond, and frankly, we're not all that sure that allowing you a loan to bond out two of those outlaws is a good idea."

"I see, you're not worried about my ability to pay the loan, just that it's for a motorcycle club's bail. It's nice to know what y'all think. I'll talk with my associates and let y'all know." she replied angrily. 'Fuckers! Don't hold your breath waiting for me to call all y'all back!' She called Gemma with the bad news. "I'm sorry, to get your hopes up for nothin'," she added.

"Don't beat yourself up, Cat. You did your best. I have an idea myself. I'll keep you posted."

* * *

Clay and the Sons had been busy that morning. Jax went around the exercise yard to get the lay of the land. The Aryan brotherhood had put out the word that the club was to be left unprotected.

Clay called Rosen and had him deliver a message to Gemma to get to Laroy. Laroy had a cousin staying in the SJCCF, they might be helpful to the club despite the Aryan's declaration.

Later that morning, he got word that Laroy's cousin Russell wanted to meet. He and Tig walked over to Russell's area where Tig watched Clay's back as he spoke with Russell. An agreement was struck for two rats to be dealt with. One was inside, a snitch named Dion. The other was on the outside. A cellphone was provided to Clay to set up the rat trap on the outside.

As for the jail rat, Russell informed Clay that Dion liked Latino meat. Juice was elected to 'take one for the club' by meeting Dion for a 'date' in the infirmary.

When Juice asked how he'd get to the infirmary, Tig provided the answer by hitting Juice so hard a rib cracked. Tig had the grace to apologize.

The rat trap on the inside worked perfectly, and Juice didn't have to take it up the backside in the end. If Opie could come through with the trap for the transvestite rat/drug pusher, the Club would be protected.

When Juice returned to the exercise yard, however, the point was driven home that the guys had to keep their eyes open at all times. Juice was attacked and shanked in the back. As the Sons closed ranks around their fallen friend, yelling for the guards, they wondered who would be next to be attacked.

* * *

Cat returned to the store with a heavy heart. It just wasn't looking good for the guys to get out any time soon. If Rosen couldn't get his hands on that tape, heaven only knew what might happen to the riders. 'It wouldn't surprise me if Zobelle had one of his cronies alter the tape to use against the guys. I don't put anything against that bastard.'

She worked in the back office, going through orders and inventory, and decided to google the Christain Center. 'Maybe I'll just do a little investigating tonight,' she thought. She copied the directions and the address, hoping the locals would have completed their own investigation by the time she got there.

Her heart leap when the two-way vibrated in her pocket. She opened it, listened and responded, "Yes, I accept!"

"I'm OK, baby. Juice got shanked." Alex told her.

"How bad?"

"He was conscious when the guards took him out, but he was bleeding like a stuck pig."

She closed her eyes in silent gratitude. "Where are they takin' him?"

"Local hospital jail ward. St. Thomas isn't set up for inmates," he replied grimly.

"I'll get Juice's file and get over there."

"You know that Juice doesn't have insurance."

"That's what the account's for, love. I just hope it won't be needed again for a long time after this."

"That makes two of us," he replied. "You holding up OK?"

"I've been better, but can't do anything except ride the storm out, as the song goes. How do I get word to y'all about Juice?" She wrote down the telephone number Alex gave her.

"That number is to a friend of the club who will be expecting your call," he explained. "You'd better get going, baby. Be careful out there."

"Don't worry, I don't go anywhere these days without takin' my iron," she replied, using code to let him know she had the gun on her.

"Good to hear. I don't want you taking unnecessary chances," he said, acknowledging that he understood what she meant.

"Be safe, and I'll see you in my dreams tonight."

"Same back atcha, baby."

She retrieved Juice's file from the safe and grabbed her digital camera. Since she was going to be in the same area, she might as well save time and effort and handle both jobs on the same trip.

Juice was already in treatment when she reached the hospital. She filled out the paperwork and signed the financial responsibility forms, though she made it clear that she would only pay after he was released on bond. Until that time, his care was the county's responsibility. He was hurt on their watch, she intended to hold them accountable.

The attending physician came out to speak with her about Juice. "The wound was deep, but missed vital organs. He lost a lot of blood so we're giving him a transfusion. He also has a cracked rib. Not sure how that happened but it's definitely not related to the wound and he's not telling how it happened. Unless he bonds out, he'll probably be returned to the jail tomorrow morning."

Cat frowned at that news. Juice would be more of a target in his weakened condition. Surely there had to be a way around that! "Let me ask a theoretical question, doc. If I give a pint of blood in Juan Carlos' name, will that get him a little extra time to recuperate?"

The doctor considered her offer. He wasn't willing to turn his patient back over to the wolves at the jail. "Well, our blood bank _is_ kind of low right now. Theoretically speaking, one pint will help, but a few more pints would make a difference."

"Hmmm. Let's say I can get 11 people to come out and give a pint. Would that be enough to give him a little more recovery time?"

"If there's 12 pints in his name in the blood bank, then we could manage to find an elevated temperature that would keep him with us another day or two." The doctor's eyes twinkled at her. He was willing to bend the rules if it helped the hospital _and _his patient.

They shook hands on the deal and the doctor walked her to Juice's room. "He's awake if you want to see him. The guard will only allow you five minutes," the doctor added.

"Even though I'm not immediate family?"

"Unless you're carrying a lock pick, he won't be going anywhere. You're his rep. But the guard will have to search you." The doctor gave her a phone number she could call to check on Juice's progress. They shook hands again as he left her with the guard.

The guard did pat her down, but he was decent about it and didn't use the occasion to cop a cheap feel. "Five minutes, ma'am," he reminded her as he held the door open for her.

"Thank you, sir."

She stepped into Juice's room, half expecting to see a repeat of Chibs. Juice was awake, an IV hooked up to his arm. He was trying to find something of interest on the television.

"I hear y'all had a busy mornin'," she said. "Aren't you takin' the phrase 'takin' one for the club' a little _too_ literal?"

Juice's face lit up with a big smile. "Hey, Cat! Good to see a friendly face!" He sobered quickly. "I won't lie to you. It's rough in there. Tig and the others are OK, though."

She smiled wryly. "I suppose Tig told you to say that."

Juice shook his head. "There wasn't much time. Clay's working his ass off to get us protection, but it's rough going. The Aryans are really putting the heat on."

"There's plenty of haters in lock up," she mused. "All y'all are walkin' targets. Gettin' protection in stir is _not_ going to be easy, and from the looks of you, Clay's meetin' with a few roadblocks."

Juice grimaced. He knew Cat wasn't kidding around with him. "The cracked rib is thanks to your old man. It helped us start towards having someone to watch our backs. The less you know about **that**, the better. He apologized for it, if that helps."

She smiled faintly. It did, and he was right, she didn't want to know the reason behind the cracked rib.

"How's Chibs?"

"Weak, but improvin'. He hates hospital tea. Don't worry about your care. As long as you're here, it's covered by the county. If you bond out, the account takes over and will move you back to Charming."

"Thanks, Cat."

"All part of the friendly service. I just hope all ya'll are done testin' me! I'm exhausted!"

The guard tapped on the window. "That's for me. Gotta go take care of some business. I'll get word to Clay that you're OK." She laid a friendly hand on his handcuffed one. "Chin up, lad. I know y'all were set up and I know _who_ did it. We'll prove it."

"Watch yourself, Cat. Tig will skin me alive if anything happened to you while you're here. You're on your own right now, y'know."

She nodded, her throat constricting a bit at the reminder. "I know. Tig's taught me well." She turned to the door then turned back again with a devilish smile. "No orderin' up any pay per view porn, y'hear? That would go on my dime and I ain't payin' for it!"

Juice laughed at the admonishment as she turned and walked out the door. She said a genuine "Thank you" to the guard and headed to the blood bank.

Before she checked in, she dialed the number Alex had given her. When the guard, a friend of the club answered, she said "My name is Cat Marshall, calling with a message for Clay Morrow."

"Yes, ma'am. I've been expecting your call."

"Please let him know that Juice is OK. The wound is deep but missed vital organs. I'm workin' on makin' it possible for him to stay a couple of days for observation."

"Ms. Marshall, you be careful about that. There are rules. If he's stable, he has to come back."

"I know, sir. I'm not breakin' the rules. Just let Clay know there's nothin' to worry about where Juice's safety is concerned. They've got enough to worry about as it is."

The guard wasn't convinced that Cat was doing the right thing, but was in no position to argue with her. "OK, ma'am, I'll deliver the message."

"Thank you, sir."

She then called Caracara Studios and asked to speak with LuAnn. "What's up, Cat?" LuAnn asked when she got on the line. The producer sounded a little harried, but that was normal when a production was being filmed.

"Wanted to know if some of your staff might have time to come out to the county hospital and give blood in Juice's name. He got shanked at SJCFF. He's OK, but if I can get 11 pints donated, the doctor has agreed to keep him for observation for a couple of extra days."

"Aw, geeze, Cat! I don't know. We're really busy up here," LuAnn whined.

Cat rolled her eyes. LuAnn might be Gemma's best friend, but sometimes she could be a bit selfish about doing something that didn't directly benefit her. "I realize that, but this is for a good cause. I'm ready to donate one now, so that's only 11 pints! Surely out of all your people, there's 11 with enough time to give a pint!"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"I'll be donating another at St. Thomas in Chibs' name," she added, hoping it would poke the woman's conscience.

"Ok, I get your point! I'll talk to my production people. It better not take too long!"

"That's all I ask, LuAnn. By the way, Otto's been in

my thoughts since the incident." She shut off the phone before LuAnn could respond.

After giving the pint, Cat rode to the MCC. There were no cops and no crime scene tape. Apparently the police had completed their investigation.

She walked around the building to make sure no cops were posted to guard the building, then tried a side door and found it unlocked. She opened the door a bit and listened. The room was silent. She darted inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

The tables and chairs were stacked and put away. The podium was still standing at the front of the room. 'Most likely, it's permanently fixed to the floor.' She walked around the perimeter, trying to imagine it as the guys would've seen it. She noticed the security cameras and remembered not to face them, just in case they were running.

She moved towards the podium and studied it from all angles. There were two holes in the front of it. Closer inspection proved the bullets had been fired from _behind _the podium. She took several pictures of the holes from different angles, making sure that they showed the fragments of wood were pointing out.

She made another round of the room, looking for any more clues, but had no luck. She returned to her bike, secured the camera and rode back to St. Thomas. She checked in on Chibs, who was awake.

"What's wrong, Lady Cat?" Chibs asked, noting the shadows in her eyes.

"Juice was attacked in the jail yard," she replied softly, knowing there was no use trying to hide the news from him. "He's OK. He's at the county hospital, and he's gonna be all right, so don't worry, Chibs."

He reached out to her and she put her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to his chest. "I'm not Tig, but you need sum cumfert, Lady Cat. I don't think Tig'll mind me givin' yer a hug right now."

She was tired, damn tired. First the bomb, then the arrest, now Juice. What next? She took a deep breath, relaxing a bit in the avuncular embrace of her friend.

"I'm OK, Chibs," she said as she straightened up. "Thank you for carin'. Get some rest and no worryin' about me or the guys. The sooner you're out of here, the happier we'll all be."

"Yer needin' ta take sum of yer own advice, wooman," he replied. "Go hoom, git sum sleep. I'll call ya later."

"OK," she smiled at him and left the room, but she wasn't going home right away. \

There were several people from Caracara at the blood bank when she arrived. One of the cameramen told her that eleven of LuAnn's employees, mainly set designers and support staff, had gone to the other hospital to take care of the pints for Juice.

"Thank God!" she sighed, thanking the cameraman for the good news. 'Juice will be safe. One less thing to worry about!' She had already given her second pint of the day when Gemma stormed in, too late to prevent her from making the second donation.

Cat stood up from the donation couch, and promptly found herself flat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

"Shit!" Gemma was next to her in a flash. LuAnn had called her about the impromptu blood drive and of Cat's intention to give a second pint. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Sure, just a little loopy legged is all. I didn't feel like eating today."

"Smooth move, giving two pints on an empty pouch!" Gemma replied. "Can you stand?"

"Hell yes! The only thing I hurt was my dignity!" She stood up on her own and brushed the dust off her back end.

"Sit down! What the Hell were you thinking? Tig will have a fit when he finds out!"

Cat treated Gemma to 'the look'. "He's not gonna find out. Not from me, and not from you, unless you rat. No harm, no foul."

"No harm except to you!" Gemma complained.

"I'll be fine, Gemma. I made a promise, and I kept it. That's all there is to it."

One of the blood bank techs came over to her and tried to force Cat to take some orange juice, which she refused. The tech insisted on having her checked for injury and to sign an incident report. Eventually, Cat was able to get away from the blood bank. All the fuss and furor reminded her of the old saying 'no good deed goes unpunished.'

She peeked in on Chibs and saw he was asleep. The 'vast wasteland' was turned off. She decided to let him sleep and headed home to download her pictures. Though she thought Chibs was resting comfortably, she didn't realize that he was having a dream about her, Gemma, the guys and the IRA gun deal.

_

* * *

_

_It was the morning after the club had been arrested, Cat entered his room to find that he was tossing and turning. He kept muttering about the 'MC pony express' and Opie not being able to do it alone, alternating with moans of 'We're fooked."_

_She retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it with cold water, and gently wiped the sweat from his face. She carefully touched his bandages, but they were dry. Her ministrations woke him. _

_"Lady Cat?" He blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to focus. _

_"Right here, darlin'," she spoke soothingly to him as any parent might console a child waking from a vivid nightmare. _

_The cool cloth felt good. The dream had been so real! He and Opie had been trying to carry all the bedrolls of guns as police cars were chasing them down the highway. _

_"It was just a bad dream, brother," she added in the same soothing manner. _

_"No, Lady Cat, it's a real fook up is what it is," he replied. _

_There was definitely something bothering Chibs, and it wasn't just that the club was in jail. It was also something that he wasn't going to give up easily, even to her. She set his morning scone and tea in front of him, allowing him to eat in peace. Once he'd finished, she asked him what was troubling him. _

_"I dunna know that I shud tell ye any more than ye've overheard, Lady Cat. It doesn't exactly fall in the 'she needs ta know' ye have with Tig." _

_"Tig isn't here to make that call, darlin'. It's major shit to bother you in your sleep. If you don't talk, it's gonna affect your recovery, so you might as well tell me 'cause I aint' leavin' till you do." _

_"Tig'll skin me alive!" _

_"And you think I won't do worse?" she countered. _

_"Damn! Ye're a tough one, Lady Cat. Sheath those claws of yers then, and I'll tell ye." _

_Chibs was worried about the next scheduled delivery for the IRA, which was due that week. With the club in jail, a charity run was out of the question. To add to his concern, he and Prospect were in the hospital, leaving only Opie and Piney to make the delivery. Chibs just didn't see how it was possible. _

_"And if the club loses this contract, it's gonna hurt y'all right in the wallet," Cat concluded. _

_Chibs nodded in miserable agreement. He felt like he'd let a wildcat out of the bag, but he felt a vague sense of relief as well. _

_"Well, brother, you don't have to worry your bandaged head about this any more. It's gonna get done. I'll see to it." _

_"Cat --" Chibs voice was full of dread. Tig would really kill him now! _

_"Chibs, dear, it's ok. I've stayed in the dark about a lot of what all y'all do by choice, but I'm not blind to it and not ignorant. I'm not a starry-eyed innocent. There's some bad seeds in my woodpile, and it's time to resurrect my rum running past." _

_"Guns aren't liquor, gurl!" _

_"I know that! But it's the same theory, running contraband for a reason. You rest easy, and I'll call ya later. Gotta go find the appropriate wheels." _

_"Rest easy, she says! Ha!" _

_She kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. It's gonna work out fine." _

_She rode out to the garage to speak with Piney and Opie about finding a set of proper wheels to make the delivery. She told both Winstons she needed to speak with them in private and sat at one of the picnic tables near the office, trying not to look at the row of bikes parked and waiting for their riders, especially Alex's. _

_"What up, Lady Cat?" Piney asked. _

_"I'm on a mission," she replied, as Opie walked up behind his dad. "I need to find a 1969 or '70 Plymouth Satellite or Dodge Charger with a hemi V8 engine and a sturdy frame and I need it now. Auto tranny would be preferred, but I'll take a stick if that's all that's available. I'll also need to put a false bottom in the trunk." _

_"That's pretty specific, what are you going to use it for?" Opie inquired. _

_"Gentlemen, you are looking at the person who is going to fulfill the deliveries with the IRA until the guys get out of jail." _

_The two men exchanged wary glances. This was so wrong on so many levels! How did she find out, anyway? Tig would have a fit if he found out! _

_Cat glared at them. "I know all about the guns. Chibs had a bad dream about it, and I happened to be there. He's right, you two can't handle this alone. I ran booze in my college days and was damn good at it. The 'Rum Runner' is comin' out of retirement." _

_They stared at her disbelief. Did this chick have any idea what she was getting herself into? This wasn't some kind of college lark, but serious business. She wasn't exactly laughing about it, though. So maybe she did know._

_Cat stood up and started pacing, trying to keep her temper under control. "Be realistic you two! Chibs and Prospect are on the injured reserve, the guys are in jail for Gawd only knows how long! That just leaves the two of you. You can't carry more than one extra bedroll apiece without raising attention, especially with the ATF sniffing around! No one is gonna suspect a female with a trunk full of shopping bags to be ferryin' guns." _

_"She's got a point, guys," Gemma spoke up. She'd overheard everything Cat had said, and agreed wholeheartedly. "It's far enough out of left field to work and if there's two women in the car the shopping cover will work even better. Right, Cat?" _

_"Damn straight!" _

_"I think I've found your car," Gemma added. "We can check it out on line, and if you like the looks, we can test drive it. If it'll work, we'll have the guys here check it out and put in the false bottom." _

_"You've been lookin' for a car for me?"_

_"As soon as I heard you mention the specifics and the upcoming delivery. We're going to make this happen for the club." _

_Opie finally found his voice. "Cat, Gemma, you just can't walk into the Hayes place and take over the delivery. He'll never agree to it." _

_"Then one of you will have to tell Hayes that there is a little change in the delivery service, won't you?" Gemma replied sweetly. "If you need us, we'll be in the office." _

_As they walked to the office, leaving the astonished Winstons in their wake, Cat thanked Gemma for stepping in. "I was afraid they'd laugh me off the lot." _

_"Oh, they wouldn't have laughed at you, but they would've turned you down. They don't dare say 'no' to me. Rank does have it's privileges, you know." _

_Gemma pulled up the internet sales ads in the area and Cat saw two immediate possibilities. One stood out from the other as it was exactly like the car she'd driven in college. It had the engine, frame, and drive train she wanted, and had less than 75,000 miles on it. The owner wanted less than a grand. _

"_There he is," Cat was literally purring. "That's the one I want." She called the seller and arranged to come out within the hour to see the car. _

"_Wanna go along?" She asked Gemma. _

"_Naturally." _

_They rode out in the Escalade to the owner's home. The Plymouth Satellite, though not a GT, was sitting in the garage. Cat cranked the engine and it roared to life, idling in a rumble like a resting panther. The interior was in good shape, as was the paint. It had good tires on it, and the mileage checked out. She raised the hood and was rewarded with the sight of a well-kept power plant. _

"_This vehicle was my husband's, and you can tell he took care of it. I don't drive it, it's too powerful for me. He can't drive anymore. I'll let it go for $500." _

"_Sold!" Cat handed over the cash, the owner signed the pink slip, and Cat took possession of the keys and the car. While Gemma returned to the garage, Cat stopped off at the local bureau of motor vehicles to transfer the title and registration. _

_She pulled into Teller Morrow a couple of hours later and the mechanics give it a once over, making sure everything was in top shape. Then Cat paid for a full detailing so the car, which was the same midnight blue as her original Rum Runner, would look as good as he ran._

_The false bottom was installed in the trunk, along with a CD/tape player and radio. Cat figured if she was going to be traveling, she wanted to have the proper tunes to keep her occupied. By the end of the next day, the Rum Runner 2 was ready to roll. _

_With the majority of the club locked up, Opie had additional duties to fulfill to get protection for the guys. Piney was left to try to talk some sense into the women, and was not finding it easy. _

"_Look, Opie can call the Hayes, and make the introductions, but that doesn't guarantee they'll accept you, regardless of your affliaiton with the club," he explained. "Clay said we need to tell Hayes and the charters to wait until they get out." _

"_Clay didn't want to leave the others behind by being bailed because we couldn't get enough money to get Bobby, Juice and Happy out," Gemma retorted. _

"_Besides, we're in a position to make this work, and I've never known a man who could turn down a good thing when he sees it. The Hayes men will see the sense in it," Cat added. "All y'all have to do is grease the skids for us." _

"_What are you going to do if they don't go along with the idea?" Piney asked. _

"_They will, 'cause I won't take 'no' for an answer," Cat replied grimly. _

"_I've got a really bad feeling about this," Piney moaned. "What do I tell Clay?"_

"_Tell him the 'Rum Runner' has come out of retirement and the delivery will go on as scheduled. If he asks what that means, have him ask Tig. If he doesn't ask, don't volunteer anything. When Opie gets back, have him call Hayes and set it up, then call me on the cell to confirm it." _

_Cat went home to change into her favorite 'kick ass' gear, the same outfit she wore to the hospital that refused to treat Alex. She had the gun Trager had given her in the holster under her coat. She also picked up some tapes and CDs and fed the cats before leaving. _

_Her cellphone sounded off with Gerard Butler's rendition of ''Past the Point of No Return'. She looked at the caller ID, relieved to see it was Opie's phone, and not the payphone at the SJCFF._

"_It's on, Cat. Hayes is expecting you. I don't like this, though. You shouldn't go there without backup." _

"_I'll be fine, Ope. If you feel we need backup, contact the nomads. Tell Gemma I'm on the way." _

_Gemma was waiting for her when she reached the garage, climbed into the shotgun seat and buckled up. Cat started the engine, loving the feel of the power of the hemi. "See ya later, Piney!" She gunned the engine as they pulled out of the driveway. _

"_I'm getting too old for this shit," Piney moaned._

"_Hey, Cat, I hope you're not getting any ideas of us ending up like Thelma and Louise," Gemma laughed as they cruised through the center of town. _

"_Won't happen," Cat replied. "No cliffs to drive off of and the feds ain't after us. I think we're safe. You're packin' I take it." _

"_Always. How about you?" _

"_Yup. Under my coat." _

"_Tig give you the gun?" _

_Cat nodded. "The weekend after Zobelle visited the shop. Tig and I drove out into the country. He thought he was going to teach me to shoot. He got educated instead." A sad smile crossed her face at the memory. _

"_You already knew how to shoot, didn't you?" _

"_When you spend your formative summers at your grandparents' farm and your best friends are your male cousins, you learn a few things. Shootin' a gun was one of them." _

_Gemma gave her an appraising look. "How did Tig take the news?" _

"_He was surprised. 'Course we did get to have a little uninterrupted time together, so it wasn't wasted." _

"_You've been full of surprises lately, aren't you?" _

"_Always keep 'em guessin' my dear. Otherwise, they start to take you for granted," Cat replied with an evil grin. "I plan to see to it that Tig never gets bored with me." _

"_I doubt that'll ever happen, Cat." _

_They reached the Hayes's military surplus store in Galt to find Opie's bike parked out front. He signaled Cat to pull around to the back. The women got out and met with the rider. _

"_I thought you weren't coming," Gemma queried the rider. _

"_I thought it would be better to be present than to leave you two without backup of some kind. Hayes doesn't know the nomads. At least he'll recognize me." _

_The trio walked around to the front of the store. Edmond Hayes, the younger of the two men, greeted Opie with a snarky "Yer a few riders short!" _

"_We ran into a little manpower problem," Opie replied. "But we got a handle on it." _

"_Ye got a mouse in yer pocket, Opie? What's with this 'we' stuff. I just see one motorcycle, one rider, and two broads." _

"_Two women," Cat interjected. "We're the delivery service today." _

"_What's this, the SAMCRO ladies auxiliary?" The young man laughed. _

_Gemma and Cat exchanged glances. "Daughters of Anarchy?" _

"_It has a ring to it, but I'm not sure how the guys would like it," Cat replied. She removed her fedora and placed it on a display case, then walked forward until she was nose to chest with Edmond. _

"_If y'all have had your laugh, it's time to get down to business, lkiddo. There's a charter of riders a few hours from here, waitin' on delivery. My companion and I are makin' that delivery. Out back is a sweet 1970 Plymouth Satellite with a V8 hemi engine and a trunk with a false bottom that will hold those bedrolls quite nicely." _

_Edmond Hayes started to speak out against the idea, but Cat stopped him. "These are my credentials: I put myself through college runnin' liquor between Illinois and Indiana and was never caught. Pulled over a few times, but no one ever discovered the haul. I can handle your guns, Junior." _

"_Think of it this way," Gemma added. "No one's going to be looking for two women headed North to shop. If they do stop us, they're not expecting two women to be running guns. We have enough loaded shopping bags in the back to make it look real." _

"_Way we see it," Cat continued, not allowing the young man a chance to speak, "this is a win-win all around. Your guns get moved on time, the deal with SAMCRO remains intact, everybody's happy. The game remains the same, only some of the players have changed." _

_Edmond looked over at Opie. 'You lettin these broads do yer talking, Ope?" _

_Cat grabbed the young man's face with one hand, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his jaw. "Opie isn't the boss, he's the muscle. You talk to us, and you talk to us with some respect. You got dat?" She used her best Victor Newman imitation in those last three words. _

_Gemma stepped up behind Cat in support. "Now, do you want to do business, or do you want her to unsheathe her claws? I'll warn you, they're sharp." _

_Hayes glanced at Opie for help, the rider merely spread his hands in front of him. "It's their show, man. I'm just here to keep the peace."_

_The beleaguered IRA man looked from Opie to Cat to Gemma. Both women were glaring at him, and Cat was subtly increasing the pressure on his jaw. These women definitely meant business. _

"_Ok, we have a deal," he squawked. _

_Cat released her grip on his jaw and patted his cheek. "Good idea. Now let's start packin' – no pun intended." She retrieved her hat from the display case and followed the young man into the back room. _

_The bedrolls were stuffed and stored in the bottom of the trunk in a short period of time. Hayes was impressed by the car, and by the false bottom. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd have never known it was there. _

"_Before you lassies go, I have to know, who belongs to which rider?" _

"_Why is that important to you?" Gemma asked. _

"_Just to satisfy my curiosity," he replied. _

"_You know what they say about curiosity, junior," Cat replied. "Besides, you never put all your wares on display at once. Always leave somethin' in storage to keep the customers comin' back." She closed the trunk with a satisfying thump, placed her fedora on her head and climbed into the driver's seat. _

"_If the gents are indisposed for the next run, we'll be seeing ya again, Mr. Hayes." She started the engine and Opie walked over to Gemma's side of the car. _

"_You two be careful,"_

"_We'll be fine, right Thelma?" _

_Cat grinned and threw the car into gear. "Right, Louise!" She spun just a little gravel as she pulled out the drive. The last thing the men heard was their laughter as the car sped away. _

_The car's tape player had the soundtrack to Eddie and the Cruisersin it. Cat was singing along to 'On the Dark Side'. She looked like she was enjoying herself, and that worried Gemma. When the song ended, Gemma reached out to turn down the volume. She wanted to get things out in the open. This wasn't normal behavior for Tig's lady. "What's going on with you, Cat?"_

_She glanced at Gemma before eyeing the road again. "If you think I'm channelin' Tig, you can relax." _

"_You act like you're enjoying this." _

"_Like Hell! I don't enjoy one thing about this, Gemma! The only reason I'm doin' this is because the guys can't. They need our help, whether they admit it or not. As long as I have breath in my body, any time my man needs me to step in, I'm doin' it. If that means I have to walk on the dark side for awhile, so be it!" _

_They rode in silence for awhile. The soundtrack ended, and Cat changed over to a Mellencamp CD and the cut 'Your Life is Now' came on. Though Cat liked the song, it did nothing to change her expression. Her features remained as stormy as her diatribe had been. _

_Gemma had silently watched the road, then placed an understanding hand on her companion's arm. "Just checking, kitten. You had me convinced for awhile back there. Just make sure you don't embrace that dark side for good." _

"_No worries there." _

_Cat pulled out the two way to check for messages. She'd forwarded her regular cell to it, and set it up to accept a collect call from Alex when she couldn't take the call. She'd left the phone turned off during their meeting with the young Mr. Hayes. _

_Sure enough, there was a message from her husband. "Damn, woman! I don't like getting voice mail! Juice was attacked in the exercise yard, they're taking him to the local hospital. Any way you can get over there and use the account for him? He doesn't have insurance and Bobby is afraid we'll have to dip into the club funds. Juice put his ass literally on the line for us today. Be safe and be available next time I call."_

'_Shit! Not good!" Cat saved the message and then activated the replay so Gemma could hear._

"_Shit! Definitely not good!" _

_Cat pulled over to the side of the road. "We're gonna have to switch, I've got to make some frackin' phone calls, get some money to the hospital for Juice. Shit!" _

_The women exchanged places, Gemma driving while Cat got our her notebook and wallet and started making calls. By the time they reached the drop point, she had arranged via three way calling for the bank to transfer money to the hospital for Juice's care. She knew she'd have some explaining to do the next time Tig called. _

"_Dammit! Just once, I'd like to do something for the club without getting found out!" _

_Gemma took charge of the exchange while Cat took the supporting stance. The charter riders knew Gemma and trusted her. The bedrolls were unloaded from the car and the riders took off. The exchange had been made without question or fanfare. _

_Once the riders had the bedrolls loaded and left to make the delivery, the two women grinned at each other, exchanged high fives and sighed with relief. They'd pulled it off! All that remained was the fallout that would come when their men found out what they'd done. _

Chibs woke with a start, not remembering where he was for a moment, then he remembered he was in the hospital and why.

'Thank Gawd! It was jest a dream!' he thought, turning his face to the right. The sight of his estranged wife, Fiona Hughes, sitting in the chair near the window met his gaze. Though he hoped he was dreaming again, he realized that this was anything but. She was a very real presence, his worst nightmare come to life.

* * *

After making her own donation, Gemma took Abel with her to the church Elliot Oswald attended. His daughter had long ago recovered from being raped by the carnival worker last fall. She was practicing for a group performance at the church.

Gemma had called Oswald's office and was told she'd find him there. She hoped that he would put up the bail for the entire club, since the women's efforts had fallen short of the mark. Oswald listened to her, but refused to help. It was just too much money, and even though Clay had helped squash Jacob Hale's scheme to take his land, Oswald felt it was better to leave the club in jail for awhile and let things between them and Zobelle cool down.

Oswald's refusal crushed Gemma. Tristan walked up to her after her father left to say hi, and asked if Abel was her baby. Gemma smiled and explained she was grandma. Oswald called her away, but she returned as Gemma was holding Abel near the baptismal font and offered to baptize the baby. Tristan dipped her hand in the water and made the sign of the cross on the child's forehead. It was a simple act, but it gave Gemma a little comfort.

Tristan asked her why she was sad. Gemma attributed it to her husband and son being in jail. Oswald came back to collect his daughter, leaving Gemma to her despair.

* * *

The guard Cat had called gestured from the fence for Clay to approach. "I heard from Tig's 'old lady'. Juice is OK. She said the cut was deep but missed vital organs. She also said that she's working on a way to ensure your man stays in the hospital instead of coming back later today."

Clay frowned. "Did she give specifics?"

The guard shook his head. "I told her there were rules, and she said not to worry about it. Just that she was working with the attending doctor on the matter."

Clay didn't like the sound of that, but there was nothing he could do about it. He thanked the guard and decided not to say anything to Tig. 'No reason to make him worry. Cat's pulled miracles out of her hat before. I just hope she doesn't stick her neck out too far,' he thought as he returned to the clustered riders.

They relaxed at the good news about Juice. If Opie could complete the other task, they'd be able to breathe a lot easier.

* * *

The first step in setting up Vinnie "Venus" Vale, the transvestite drug pusher on Russell's hit list was to get the necessary drugs to plant on Vale. To that end,

Opie enlisted the help of Lyla, one of LuAnn's actresses. He knew she used coke, had seen the vials in her car when she left it for repair at the garage. Lyla agreed to call her dealer, who brought his wares to the studio.

Lyla had experienced a lot of harassment from that dealer, and she really wanted nothing more to do with him. She wouldn't object to Opie being heavy handed with the dealer. Opie not only roughed up the dealer, but was able to obtain the necessary narcotics that would ensure Trammell could get Vale back to the SJCCF. Trammel pointed out Vale's vehicle, which was pulling into a liquor store parking lot.

Opie rode up to the parking lot, parked on the street and ran up to the drug dealer's SUV. He didn't remove his knapsack until he was crouching beside the driver's door, causing a delay in getting the door unlocked and depositing the drugs under the seat.

In his haste, Opie didn't notice that the bag wasn't completely hidden. He locked and closed the door and rode away, giving Trammel the thumbs up as he passed.

Vale returned to his SUV and drove out of the lot. It appeared that the frame up would work. Trammel fell in behind Vale, lights and sirens going. When Trammel walked up to the door, Vale shot him and sped away. Opie was able to use the deputy's radio to call for assistance, but the deal with Russell was left half done.

* * *

Tristan followed her father to their car, looking back over her shoulder at Mrs. Morrow. She knew the woman had asked her father for help, and apparently her father had turned her down.

'I feel bad for Mrs. Morrow. She helped me after that man hurt me. All Mommy wanted to do was pretend it hadn't happened,' she thought. 'I know Mommy meant well, but she didn't help me the way Mrs. Morrow did. If Mrs. Morrow needs our help, she should get it.' Tristan waited until her father started the car to speak up. "Daddy, why did you turn down Mrs. Morrow?"

Oswald glanced at his daughter in surprise. She still seemed so little to him, but circumstances had caused her to have to grow up pretty fast this year. "It's complicated, baby. You wouldn't understand."

"Mrs Morrow was nice to me after that man hurt me. She sat with me in the hospital, and I know you asked Mr. Morrow to find that man. He did and made him pay. We owe them for that."

Oswald couldn't respond. He didn't know how his little girl knew about that. He doubted Gemma would've said anything to his daughter. She probably overheard him talking about it to someone.

"Mr. Morrow needs our help, and you refused," Tristan added. "That's not right, Daddy. Whatever they're accused of doing, don't they deserve to be free to prove their innocence? Isn't it our turn to help them?"

Her simple innocence and pure spirit touched his heart. "You're right, baby girl," he replied heavily. We _do_ owe them. I'll take care of it when we get home."

They rode in silence for awhile, then Tristan reached out her hand to her father's arm. "Thank you, Daddy."

When they got home, Oswald called Rosen and made arrangements to cover the bail for the club. Rosen would get the bond posted so the men could be home that night.

Clay returned to the cell the club was sharing with other inmates. He felt tired and old. The guard had just brought him bad news. "We just heard over the scanner that Trammell was shot on duty. He's in serious condition."

"What the Hell happened?"

"Trammell radioed in he'd gotten a tip about a known drug pusher, Vinnie Vale, and was going to make a traffic stop. Next thing we heard on the radio was some civilian calling in that Trammell was down. He wasn't wearing a flak jacket. The wound's pretty deep. On the plus side, the hospital called to alert us that your man has an elevated temperature and won't be coming back tonight. They're keeping him until his temperature returns to normal, or he bonds out."

Clay felt terrible. 'Trammell wasn't supposed to get hurt, damn it! The deal with Russell is only half done, leaving us in a hell of a mess! The only good thing is Cat getting the extra hospital time for Juice. At least he's safe!'

Clay shared the news about Trammell with the club only to have Jax ask if Opie was safe. Jax didn't seem to care that Trammel took one for the club. The kid was really getting on his nerves.

"Morrow! Come here!" One the guards called. Agent Stahl had requested a meet with him but the guards wouldn't tell him that.

As Clay was led away, Bobby attempted to try to talk some sense into Jax. The situation between Clay and him was wearing down the club at a time when they needed to be together.

Jax remained unswayed. He wanted the club to become what his father had outlined and it wouldn't as long as Clay was in charge. As far as Jax was concerned, Clay's age and experience didn't make him a good leader. Bobby was trying to hold everything together, but he was getting tired of the constant tension between step-father and son.

* * *

Clay was handcuffed to a table waiting for whatever or whoever was going to enter the interview room.

When he saw Agent Stahl walk in his stomach rolled. A perfect end to an already not so perfect day.

Things got worse as Stahl placed surveillance pictures of Zobelle meeting with the IRA reps at the MCC the previous day. She wanted the Sons to roll over on the IRA as it was obvious the Irish had turned on the Sons. Clay knew then that their deal with the IRA had been changed, but he didn't let on to Stahl.

As in all her dealings with the club, Stahl spoke to deaf ears. She gathered her pictures to leave the room and threw her last shot at Clay, that she knew he had something to do with Donna's death.

Clay was returned to the holding cell and the guard called for Jax next. As Jax walked up to Clay, the younger man acted like he wanted to apologize, but Clay let go with a roundhouse punch to his step-son's jaw and the fight was on.

Tig and Happy rushed to intervene, but Bobby stopped them, telling them the pair needed that fight. Both men fought hard against each other, raining blows on face and body. Alarms were going off in the facility as the two continued to batter each other. All Tig could do was stand by and watch as the two beat each other.

Eventually, several guards ran to the holding cell to separate the two. Both were taken to the infirmary to be treated. No one noticed Agent Stahl watching the results of her taunt.

After he'd been treated, Jax was led to the interview room in handcuffs. Agent Stahl laid the surveillance pictures of the Hayes men and Zobelle in front of Jax. Stahl offered to make all the club's legal troubles with Zobelle go away in exchange for giving up the Irish to her; she would even go so far as to get Otto's parole back on track.

Jax wouldn't take the bait. Agent Stahl told him the club was free to go as their entire bond had been posted hours earlier.

Cat sent the MCC pictures to Rosen as soon as she had them downloaded, then called him to follow up. "Check your in box, I sent you some pictures," she announced. "I stopped by the Christain Center today, and took some pictures of the podium. They show outgoing, not incoming holes. Someone shot at the guys from it."

"I see the email," Rosen replied. "Hang on." There was a pause as he examined the pictures. "They look good. The tape showed none of the guys anywhere near the podium. Unfortunately, you can't see much else on the tape. It's pretty poor quality."

"Can you tell whether it's been edited in any way?"

"Not really. Gemma mentioned you were interested. Frankly, I don't think the tape is going to make any difference for either side. Unless someone at the Center steps forward, the county won't have much of a case. Those pictures of yours are going to be a big help. Thanks, Cat."

"Not a word to Tig or Clay about this. At least not until they're out on bail," she replied.

"I understand. Do you have hard copies?"

"Yup, in a safe place. I don't trust all these digital gadgets. Too much can go wrong." She'd printed off a set of the pictures and locked them in the medical histories safe before calling Rosen.

"Good. I've got another call to take, Cat. Take care of yourself."

She was exhausted and weak from the blood donation. Her arms hurt like Hell. Whenever she got stuck for donation or blood work, the puncture site would be bruised and sore for days.

Gemma had given her hell for the double donation. She knew if Alex found out he'd do the same, or worse. Gemma was sworn to secrecy and her arms would be healed by the time the guys bonded out. It looked like this was one time she'd get away with doing a good deed.

She had just lay down on the bed when the two-way buzzed for her attention. She picked it up, hoping this wasn't news of another injury or worse.

"Bond's been posted, baby. We're on the way home."

"Thank God! Do you want me to come to the garage?"

"Nah. We're gonna be in the clubhouse. Don't know how long it will be. No reason for you to sit in the dark when you can be safe at home."

"OK. I'll be waitin' for ya."

"Don't. It'll be late when I get in."

"Glad you're out, love. See ya when I see ya."

The thought that the guys weren't going directly home was not welcome news. Something must've gone down while they were in custody. She couldn't worry about that. Alex would be tired, hungry, and stressed from his ordeal.

She put a few beers and Snickers bars in the fridge to cool and defrosted a steak in the microwave, putting it in her own special marinade. It might be several hours before he was home, but she intended to make sure he came home to a hot meal, a cold beer, his favorite chilled candy bar, and an unstressed wife.

She took a shower and put on a flowing gown and robe. The discoloration on her inner arms looked as ghastly as they felt. She'd just have to be careful not to let the bruises show. She knew from experience that makeup wouldn't cover them.

Her pouch growled at her. She cut off a strip of marinated steak for herself and cooked it rare. She felt better for having eaten and shared some of the meat with the cats. There was still plenty of steak left for Alex.

Once she and the cats were satiated, she curled up on the couch to watch for his motorcycle so she could welcome him home. Misty and Ming settled next to her while Ebony lay across the top of the sofa. She had a tape of music selections playing that most reminded her of Alex. The only light in the room was from the front porch and the table lamp. Her activity during the day and her relief at the club's release, along with the shower and the music wore her down. Soon, female and felines were sound asleep.

* * *

The short ride to Charming was quiet but uncomfortable for the Sons, coming on the heels of the fight between Clay and Jax. The tension between them was heavy, even though Jax was in the very back of the van while Clay rode shotgun next to Happy. No one spoke during the ride, making it seem to take longer than normal.

The Sons were happy to see the grounds of Teller Morrow, the clubhouse, and the line of parked motorcycles. They piled tiredly and gratefully out of the van.

Gemma and Tara came out of the office to meet their men. Tig was relieved that Cat had listened to him and stayed home. 'I know it's selfish, but I don't want the tension here to mess up our reunion.'

Jax walked away from the van, passing his mother and girlfriend without a word, heading for the stairs that led to the roof of the garage. The others followed Clay into the clubhouse. As the women watched, both doors slammed closed, effectively shutting them out from both sides.

The meeting didn't last as long as Tig anticipated. They all shared a beer, but never entered the chapel. It had been a long, tiring day. There was a lot that they needed to discuss, but they were worn out. All they wanted to do was go get some sleep where they didn't have to keep one eye open for trouble. They agreed to meet the next afternoon.

Tig's bike was parked in its usual place. He mounted it and put on his helmet. He considered calling ahead but decided against it. He didn't want any more delay. He started the engine and headed home.

**Home**. The word made his heart race. 'I never realized what that means to me,' he thought. He'd not had a real place to call home in years. He'd had places to crash, but no place where he felt wanted and welcomed and where he felt safe. 'Cat's given me all that. I have something and someone to look forward to every day. I can close my eyes around her. Why did I have to be taken away from it to really appreciate it?'

He turned onto his street and saw the welcoming glow of the front porch light. He pulled into the drive, the headlight illuminating the PT, the Yamaha and the front window. He felt a sense of welcome to see the living room light left on for him and Cat curled up on the couch with the other felines around her. All four of them were sound asleep. He could hear the stereo playing. "I've not heard that before,' he thought, as a cut from the Eddie and the Cruisers II soundtrack, '_Just a Matter of Time_', drifted through the slightly open window.

He leaned against the porch railing he'd sat on the afternoon he'd forced that first kiss on her, watching her and the cats through the window and enjoying a smoke. He soaked in the peace and tranquility that radiated from his home. As tired and worried as he was over the widening rift between Clay and Jax, he was content.

He finished his smoke and quietly opened the door, keeping an eye on Ebony so he wouldn't get out in the dark. The cats raised sleepy eyes at him. Their expressions seemed to say "Eh. It's just you. About damn time!" They flipped their tails in unison before closing their eyes again.

The aroma from Cat's dinner made his mouth water, and his stomach growled in agreement. He crept to the kitchen to find the marinating steak waiting to be cooked. He opened the refrigerator, pleased to find several bottles of cold beer and some Snickers bars. He opened a beer and took a long, satisfying pull from it while removing a candy bar and closing the door.

'Damn! I didn't expect all this!' It touched him that she'd considered his needs even though she didn't know when he'd be coming home that night.

The cats jumped from the sofa and rubbed their bodies around his legs in greeting. "So you guys missed me, eh? It's nice to see you." He patted each on the head, giving scratches under the chin. The tape had moved on to a cut called '_Wake Me Up_'.

His voice woke Cat. She stretched as she stood up, forgetting that the long sleeves of her robe would fall past her elbows. He thought he saw bruises on her inner arms, but she put them down too quickly for him to be sure.

"Welcome home, love. I see you found your treats."

He opened his arms and she rushed into his embrace. He hoped she wasn't offended by the smell of jail as he kissed her deeply and hungrily. 'Damn! She smells good! All those berries in her scent is making me hungry!" His stomach growled again in agreement.

"You're starved," she observed with a grin. "I intended to have this started when you pulled in. Sorry 'bout fallin' asleep,"

"Don't apologize, baby. You didn't have to go to all this trouble for me."

"It's no trouble. If you want to take a shower, I can have dinner ready for you by the time you're done," she replied.

He grinned at her. "Is that a nice way of telling me I stink like the jail?"

She shook her head, her expression serious. "Never in a million years would I go there, love."

He took her chin in his hand, his thumb stroking her lips. "I was kidding, baby. But I _will_ take that shower."

She grilled the steak and heated the veggies while he was in the shower. Alex liked his steaks rare, so the meal was ready by the time he was finished with his shower. He padded out to the table dressed only in a pair of jeans. He looked very satisifed with himself.

"Feel better, love?"

"Much. Ya know, I always like it when you've been in there before me. All those lotions and soaps of yours smell great!" He leered at her as he settled at the table. "Course, I like it better when we're both in there at that same time!"

"Insatiable devil! It's only been a couple of nights!"

"Seemed longer," he gazed at the large plate she set in front of him. "Wow! You hungry? There's enough for both of us," he said, reaching out to hug her while keeping a wary eye on the cats.

"I ate earlier, love. Considerin' what you've been through, I figured you'd be ravenous. What you don't eat can be reheated later." She kissed the top of his damp head and shooed the cats away from the table.

"Feel awake enough to sit with me?" he asked, cutting into the steak with relish.

"Of course." She placed a beer on the table and sat across from him. She sipped at a flat Fresca while filling him in on Chibs' recovery. She then recounted the agreement with the doctor to keep Juice overnight that resulted in an impromptu blood drive at both hospitals, leaving out the part about her double donation. "If y'all wind up gettin' any community service, that's one thing to consider doin'. Hospitals can always use blood," she added.

He nodded in response as he swallowed some beer. 'Damn decent of her to go to all that effort for Juice. She barely knows him, except for his work on the website. Dunno why it surprises me. I'm glad she's in our corner. Maybe she's willing to become more open to what goes on with the club.'

The steak was just the way he liked it and the steamed vegetables were buttery and crisp. He was more hungry than he'd thought, and consumed the entire plate.

"With all y'all bonded out, I'll make arrangements tomorrow to have Juice moved to St. Thomas. If the account is going to pick up on his care, I want him closer to home," she added.

"You're the boss where that's concerned," he replied, pushing his empty plate aside. "That was good. The stuff they serve can barely be considered food. It definitely has no taste."

She smiled as she stood up to take his plate to the sink. Instead of removing his plate, Cat found herself drawn onto his lap and kissed very soundly.

"God, I'm glad to be home!" he nuzzled her neck.

She rested her head against his shoulder. "That makes two of us. There's a lot of things I'd like to say about the other night, but it can wait. No fussin' tonight." She stood up and rinsed his plate and utensils before putting them in the dishwasher.

He rose from the table and walked behind her, enfolding her in his arms and pressing up to her back. There was no doubt about what was on his mind. She turned to face him, that wayward eyebrow inching it's way up.

Once he removed her robe and gown, Alex could clearly see the discolorations on both her inner arms. He winced at the sight of them. "Did they have to stick you twice?"

'Damn! I forgot! No good deed ever goes unnoticed around here! Guess I'd better come clean,' she thought. "It only hurts if I put pressure on 'em," she replied. "I did get stuck twice, but not at the same hospital. One arm gave blood in Juice's name, the other for Chibs."

Tig frowned. "They let you give two pints in one day?" He growled in the manner he used when she had done something detrimental to her well being.

She shrugged. "They didn't ask. I didn't tell until I fell on my ass in front of Gemma and everybody else.

It's just a couple of pints. I'll be fine, love."

He brought her arms up and carefully examined the bruises. They were several shades of black, blue and purple. "Dammit woman!" he whispered, brushing his lips against each, making her shiver with delight. "You scare the Hell out of me sometimes. _Don't_ do anything that foolish like that again. I've grown pretty fond of you and want to keep you around awhile."

He picked her up and placed her on the bed, removed his jeans and lay beside her, holding her close as if he was afraid she'd fly away. Though his body hummed with need, he was content just to hold her.

"Don't worry, Alex. You're stuck with me for life," she assured him, her hand moving slowly from his chest to below his waist. Her hand let him know that she was ready, willing, and able to give him a proper welcome home.

"That's one sentence I don't mind serving," he replied, nuzzling her neck as his lower regions responded to her ministrations.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER

The following is a work of fiction.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are my own creation. Any similarities to real persons are just a coincidence.

Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me _all _my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. We've had 15 great years together; here's to many more!

My best friend (who does live in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. My unofficial 'Godchild', her daughter, for her love as well.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement in this venture, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, and Facebook friends who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on , check out her SOA/Tig Story called 'Shapphires and Whiskey'. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art. I love it!

**Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager. **

**Charming Pawse **

**Book Two**

**Chapter 4**

**Potlatch, Fa Guan **

**and Preparing a Final Farewell**

The morning following the Sons release was picture perfect weatherwise. There was no hint of storms in the forecast, but there _was_ a storm brewing that none of the men and women of SAMCRO anticipated.

In two homes in Charming, the SAMCRO men and their women were discussing the Sons' brief imprisonment and the fight that took place between Clay and Jax. In a third, the couple had yet to face the day, much less speak of the events that had led to the club's arrest in the first place.

Cat awoke imprisoned in bed by the cats on one side and on her feet and Alex against her other side, his arm wrapped around her waist. Not wanting to disturb any of the sleepers, she gently disentangled herself from the cats and slid out from under Alex's hand. She wanted him to get as much sleep as possible. The club's stay at the SJCCF had been stressful. The more sleep Alex got, the better he'd feel.

She started the coffeepot and began fixing breakfast while contemplating the conversation they needed to have. Despite her stealthy departure from the bedroom, the cats ran after her, loudly demanding their breakfast.

"What? You can't stay with your Daddy for a few more minutes and keep him company?"

They meowed plaintively, a definite "Feed me!" that sounded remarkedly similar to the monster plant in '_Little Shop of Horrors_'. Three furry bodies wound around her legs as she mixed kibble and canned food into their bowls.

Three furry backs turned on her when she placed the bowls on the floor. They gobbled and purred over their breakfast. She grinned indulgently at them. "I'm surprised at you, Misty! I expected the boys to ignore me once they got what they wanted. That's boys for ya, but for you to descend to their level? Tsk!"

"They're ruled by their stomachs, like all us animals," Alex remarked, stretching and yawning as he entered the kitchen.

"That must explain why _you're_ up, then," she replied, handing a mug of coffee to him. "I was hopin' you'd sleep awhile yet, love."

He slipped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a good morning kiss. "Then you shouldn't have left me all alone. I sleep better when you're there. Got club business to attend to anyway."

She flipped the omlettes she was making, a recipe from Mama McLaughlin that included a filling of rice, mixed veggies, cheese, and ground sausage with assorted seasonings. "That may be, love. A couple of extra hours rest wouldn't hurt, especially after the day y'all had yesterday!"

He sipped the steaming coffee. It was just the way he liked it, hot and black. "I'm not against the idea, especially if you're part of the deal."

She slid the loaded plate in front of him. "I'm tempted, but my day's full. Gotta get Juice moved to St. Thomas. And we've got big doin's comin' up at the coffeehouse."

"What are you talking about?" His voice was sharp, wondering if Zobelle had tried something against her while the club was in jail. 'She's not talked about any kind of big event coming up!'

The landline rang, interrupting the conversation. She glared at the caller id. "Wonder what Gemma wants this early?"

"Only one way to find out," he replied, not very pleased about the interruption. He knew Gemma wouldn't appreciate getting voice mail and she'd be likely to pounce on him at the garage if she had to leave a message for either of them.

Cat used the middle finger of her right hand to push her glasses up her nose. "What's up, Gemma?" She listened for a moment, ignoring Alex's grin at her use of digital communications. "Sure, I can bring dessert. See you tonight about 8."

"Gemma's having a potluck tonight," he observed. "She volunteered us to bring dessert."

"Very good use of your powers of deductive reasoning."

"Smartass. Don't put yourself out to make anything. You can always buy something. Gemma won't mind."

"_I_ mind." She checked the pantry and found a couple of no bake cheesecake mixes. "Perfect! I can fix these, and they won't be a hassle to transport," she held up the two boxes. "Won't be completely from scratch, but if no one asks, they don't have to know, right?"

He raised his coffee cup in agreement, drained the contents, and poured a refill. "Sounds workable to me. What's this shit about 'big doin's' at the coffeehouse? Did Zobelle pull something while we were 'away'?"

Normally, they refrained from talking 'shop' during meals, either his or hers. She could tell Alex was concerned and wasn't going to let up until he got an answer.

"It's related to Zobelle, but he didn't pull anything, except to get y'all jailed," she said reassuringly. "Our next karaoke night is goin' to be dedicated to makin' Charming a lot less so for him and his kind." She outlined the format of the evening and how it would focus on music that affirmed patriotism, social consciousness, acceptance of differences, and peace.

"Sounds a lot like Woodstock," he replied. He wasn't sure it was a good idea, only because it would put her squarely in Zobelle's sights. 'As if she hasn't been since their meeting. She'll just ignore _that_ objection, so guess I'll hear her out before I raise any others.'

"Not entirely. Neither one of us is old enough to _remember_ Woodstock. Tell ya this much, based on history, this'll be much more hygenic. Plus, no hemp brownies!" He made an 'oh darn!' gesture that made her smile. "The staff is really excited about the idea, they've been talkin' it up to the customers and they seem interested. I'm workin' on an openin' that will set the mood and make our friendly white hate group _very _uncomfortable."

"What kind of opening?" he asked.

"I'm just going to take some appropriate music to historical photos that show how groups like Zobelle's don't work. Then, I plan to let the townspeople hear Zobelle's own words from his meetin' with me. If that doesn't wake them up, nothin' will!"

He spewed coffee all over the table. "You _taped_ that?"

"Audio _and _video," she smirked, wiping his spill with a wad of napkins. "I put in a security device after that confrontation with Stahl. You might not always be able to pick up the two-way to overhear a sticky situation. It made sense to install a strategic recording device for situations like that. Now I can use Zobelle's own words against him."

He relaxed while an admiring grin spread across his face. "That's truly evil! It's one of the things I love about you." He drained the remainder of his coffee and stood up, leaving his dishes on the table as he slid into his cut. "Wish I had more time to discuss this, baby. It sounds good, but keep me in the loop." He walked over to her side of the table, grabbed her by the hands and raised her to her feet for a hug and kiss.

"You know I will," she replied, slapping his butt. "See you when I see you." He hugged her again and departed.

She sighed in frustration. She'd not intended to let the conversation get sidetracked, but he had a knack for it. She still intended to talk about the previous night, come hell or high water.

* * *

Cat was running late to the dinner that evening. It had taken longer than she'd anticipated to get Juice moved due to all the bureaucratic red tape involved. She'd also gotten a surprise when she stopped in to see Chibs by the presence of his estranged wife, Fiona Hughes.

Alex had told her that Chibs had a wife and daughter in Ireland, so she'd not expected to see any of Chibs' family at the hospital. She'd stepped into Chibs' room with a cup of tea and a scone, but he was sound alseep while a dark-haired woman sat in the chair across from the bed.

"Hey," Cat said amiably but softly so she wouldn't disturb Chibs. "I'm a friend of Chibs', Cat Marshall," she extended her hand to the woman, who stared icily at it. The woman's hands remained in her lap.

Cat put her hand down and returned the woman's stare. "Listen, chick. Dunno who ya are, but unless you're related to Chibs in some way, you'd best not be sittin' here."

"And ye aire?" the woman replied haughtily.

"I told you my name. I'm also the person who's payin' for Chibs' medical care. If you don't want me callin' security on your ass, either tell me your name, or get the Hell out of here! I _can _get nasty if I have to!" Cat replied in an angry whisper.

The woman's eyes moved up and down, taking in her adversary's glasses and short stature. Despite her height advantage, Fiona Hughes could see from the other woman's bearing and fierce expression that Cat could back up her threat.

"Claws in, Miss Kitty. I'm Fiona Hughes. Chibs' wife."

"The name is Cat, Ms. Hughes, not Kitty. I run a coffeehouse, not a saloon in Dodge City. Dunno why yer bein' so territorial, I'm already spoken for."

The woman smiled, but not very warmly. "I know. Yer Tig's old laidy. I've heard lots aboot ye."

"Afraid I can't say the same in return, Ms. Hughes, or is it Mrs. Telford?"

"Ms. Hughes is fine, Ms. Marshall. I apologize for the attitude, but Chibs has an eye for the laidies."

Cat smile was several degrees warmer than Fiona's. "He does, at that. He's a good friend. Just wanted to look in on him, and make sure everything's OK. Since he's asleep, I'll take my leave. C'mon by the coffeehouse, I'll treat ya to a cuppa."

Fiona nodded at her. "I may do that, Miss Cat. I'll tell Chibs ye came by."

Cat left the room, wondering who would've called Fiona. Chibs hadn't given her that information for his file. 'I suppose it could've been the Ireland charter. Alex might know. I'm not gonna deny her the visit as long as it doesn't set Chibs recovery back."

She'd had several things to attend to at the coffeehouse for both the rally and the business, plus she had to take time to make the dessert for the potluck. Somehow, time had gotten away from her. A cake pan wouldn't travel well on the motorcycle so she had to drive the Cruiser and that meant parking further down the street from the Morrows house.

She was walking to the house when she nearly ran down Deputy Chief Hale, who had just left.

"You must be really hard up for somethin' to do if you're bustin' potluck dinners," she stated snarkily. Hale was still on her 'shit' list for his part in the guys' arrest.

"You're about to walk into a shit storm," Hale replied, ignoring her verbal pot shot. "The guys were fighting with each other when I walked in."

She listened to the angry masculine shouts coming from the house. "Sounds like they're still at it," she remarked.

"I just told them LuAnn Delaney's body was recovered off County Road 18 earlier today. She was beaten to death."

"Luann? Dead?" Cat was shocked. "She and Gemma are like sisters! How'd she take it?"

A feminine shriek and the sound of breaking china met her query. She shoved the cake pan into Hale's hands and ran into the house.

"I think you just got your answer," he replied. He considered following her with the pan but thought better of it. If her car was still unlocked, he'd leave it in there. If not, the department would certainly appreciate the treat.

Cat paused inside the back door to take in the tableau before her: the men had been fighting amongst themselves, though they were standing around in shock and Bobby Elvis looked sick to his stomach; Netta was standing at the head of the table with a look of stunned horror on her face; Gemma was sitting at the table in the middle, broken china and slices of meat on the floor and table surrounding her, tears streaming down her face.

The most compelling sight to Cat was the Winston kid's faces. Their eyes were wide with fright. They were seated near one end of the table, next to another frightened child and a blond girl standing next to the kids. Cat didn't recognize the girl. It was the sight of those scared faces that spurred her into action, not caring whether she ruffled anyone's feathers by doing so.

Cat nudged the nanny's arm and hissed "Get those kids out of here, Netta!" When the nanny didn't budge, Cat pushed her towards the kids and stated more firmly, "_Move_, dammit!"

The temporary paralysis that had come over Netta broke and she gathered the three children about her, leading them from the dining room. Her voice was soothing and comforting as she spoke to them.

Satisfied that the kids were in good hands, Cat grabbed a waste basket and knelt next to Gemma. She laid a hand on her friend's knee. "I'm so sorry, Gemma," she whispered, then began picking up the larger pieces of broken china, placing them and the slices of meat in the waste basket.

As she worked, she glanced at the other adults. "Are all y'all gonna stand around gawkin', or are y'all gonna be useful and help clean up?" When no one stirred, she added fiercely "Let's move, people!"

Her challenge snapped Tara and and the blonde out of their trances. They began clearing the table. Alex shook his head, then knelt next to her, helping her clean up the floor.

"Be careful, baby. Don't cut yourself," he whispered.

'Too late,' she thought. A sliver of broken china had already gotten imbedded in the palm of her hand. It hurt like Hell, but she had other things on her mind. There were still too many people standing around. Gemma was in tears and gasping for breath.

"Clay!" Cat called out. "Could you _please_ take Gemma out of here? Make sure she didn't get cut by the broken china?"

Concern for his wife cut through the fog in Clay's head. He gently took Gemma's hands to help her to her feet and led her out of the dining room.

Still in take charge mode, Cat grabbed a dishcloth from the sink and began cleaning the floor and table of spilled meat juices. As she worked, her eyes met Opie's blank ones. "Don't you think you should check on your kids? They need their Dad more than they need a nanny!"

"Don't tell me what to do about my kids!" Opie snarled, glaring angrily at Cat. 'Tig needs to show that woman her place!'

Before Tig could jump to his lady's defense, the blonde woman intervened. "She's right, Ope. Your kids heard and saw _everything_. They need you right now."

Opie left the room, casting another angry glare at Cat. He didn't say what was on his mind, but she had a feeling that her man was going to hear plenty on the subject later.

She glared at Bobby, Prospect, and Happy, who were still standing and staring aimlessly. "If the rest of y'all aren't gonna help clean up, ya might as well head out. There ain't gonna be a dinner tonight."

She continued cleaning the table and floor of the meat and china mess while the other women covered dishes and put them in the refrigerator. Bobby and Happy took her advice and left. Jax and Prospect stayed to help. No one spoke as they worked, everyone was too aware of Gemma's grief. Cat's hand smarted from the sliver. The meat juices and soapy water had gotten into it and the sting made her mood darker.

Clay returned to the dining room, spotted Cat and walked over to her. "Gemma's not physically hurt, but she's upset. I guess we all are," he looked around the room, his brow furling in anger when his gaze rested on Jax.

Opie came through the dining room, holding his children by the hand as the third followed. "Lyla, take the kids home. I'll follow you," he addressed the blond directly whle ignoring everyone else. He and his children departed with Lyla following after them with the other child.

"Yeah, yer welcome," Cat huffed at the rider's back. She was tense, wondering if Clay was going to unload on her for taking charge in his house. Much to her surprise, he slipped an avuncular arm around her shoulder. "Thanks, Cat. I guess Hale told you?"

She nodded. "I bumped into him outside. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You have nothing to apologize for. _Some_ people around here should be more sorry than others," he replied, glaring at his step-son.

Alex had moved into a defensive position behind Cat, just in case Opie went off on her. He knew Clay wasn't mad at her. With the remains of the dinner put away and the room cleaned up, there was no reason for anyone to hang around. "C'mon, babe. You too, Prospect. There's nothing else we can do here." He wanted to get them out of the house before Jax and Clay had another meltdown.

"See you guys in the morning," Clay replied, still glaring daggers at Jax. Tara had Jax by the hand and was leading him to the door as well. Apparently she had the same thought as Tig of avoiding a confrontation between the two.

Alex took Cat's arm and they walked out of the house to her car. Prospect said a hasty good night and ran to his bike. When they reached the Cruiser, Alex leaned against the back door while she unlocked the driver's door. She suddenly felt very tired. 'I'm too old for this shit.'

Alex grapsed the back of her neck with his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Wait for me to pull up behind you. I'll feel better if I follow you."

"Ok. We _will_ talk about this – everything – when we get home, right?"

"I guess we have to," he replied. He waited as she climbed into the driver's seat, thought about reminding her of the seat belt, but decided not to and walked back to his bike. A few seconds later, the Dyna pulled up behind her.

By the time they returned to the house, her hand was bleeding again, and she wasn't able to hide it from Alex. He took one look at the pool of blood on her shirtsleeve and pulled her into the bathroom.

"Damn, baby! Why didn't you say something earlier?" he murmured as he cleaned the wound with perioxide. It was long, but didn't look deep enough for stitches. He saw the sliver of china embedded in her palm and whistled soundlessly.

"Too much goin' on at the time," she replied, gritting her teeth against the pressure he was using the remove the sliver. "TLC obviously isn't part of your vocabulary, hon."

He let up on the pressure he was using to extract the sliver. "Sorry, baby. I'm not used to being a nurse." He dug the sliver out and cleaned it with more peroxide before applying a gauze pad to it and taping it down. "How's that?"

"Better. I'll go fix dinner."

She embraced him briefly before heading to the kitchen, stopping in the bedroom long enough to change shirts. Alex made his usual round of the house, making sure everything was secure.

Cat carried her stained shirt to the laundry and put some pre soak on the stain. It'd keep until she had a load of wash to run. She still felt tired and sad, but was determined to speak with her husband as she'd wanted to that morning, but not until they'd had something to eat.

After clearing up, she handed a fresh beer to him and curled up in the recliner with a cup of blueberry tea. "Just what was going on before I came in, love? It sounded like World War III. _Please_ don't just wave it off as 'club business' that I don't need to know about. That's not gonna wash tonight!"

Alex smiled grimly. "You just blew that line of defense to Hell!" He took a pull from the beer. "This whole day was a total FUBAR from the minute I left. It seemed like the club was at odds all day."

"Was that fall out from Juice getting shanked?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Did he get settled OK?"

"He's safe and sound at St. Thomas. He's in a separate room from Chibs. Things went fine once I got through all the damn red tape!"

"At least something went right today!" He took another pull from the beer. 'This full disclosure shit is too new for me. How much can I tell? How much _should_ I tell her?'

Cat knew he was struggling with confiding in her. He was used to keeping her and the club separate. Now he was having to make a 360 degree change. "I know you can't go into complete detail, but you need to talk to _someone. _Tell me whatever you can, starting from when you left this morning." When he remained silent, she added. "I'm OK with what goes on, love. If the last couple of days don't prove that, I don't know what will. Besides, if you can't confide in _me_, who else are you gonna talk to?"

'She's right. I _don't_ have anyone else when the club's at odds like this.' He took another reassuring pull from the beer. "You saw Prospect tonight. We were discussing his new nut and he showed it off – "

"TMI!" she squealed, holding up the palm of her hand. "The only nuts I'm interested in are the pair between your legs, but right now I'm more interested in knowin' what went on today. What happened after the show and tell?"

"We – Happy, Bobby, Prospect, Opie and I – were talking about the situation between Clay and Jax. They've not been getting along for months."

"I noticed," she affirmed. "It seems like they've been at odds since Donna was killed."

"It's been going on longer than that. Jax has been dissatisfied, but he won't say what's wrong so we can fix it. Hell, he and Clay got into a brawl at the jail. Happy and I were going to break it up, but Bobby wouldn't let us. He said they needed the fight. I don't think it made much difference."

"It certainly looks that way," she replied. "What did y'all decide on, as I'm sure fightin' wasn't it."

"Bobby delegated me to talk to Clay. Opie volunteered to talk to Jax. We split up then, Jax reported the Chinese wanted to talk to Clay. Jax went to Caracara because LuAnn had called." He took another swallow. "Saw an old face today. Remember Chucky?"

"Isn't he the guy who ripped off a bunch of money from the Chinese with one hand permanently attached to his dick?"

He nodded. "Lin figured out how to keep his hand and dick separate but still work a calculator. Lin didn't need him anymore and offered him back to us. Clay was just going to let Chukcy take his chances with the Chinese. I stepped in, suggested he take over the bookkeeping at the studio to free Bobby. Clay wasn't happy with that suggestion."

"I don't suppose you happened to speak out in front of other club members after Clay had turned Chucky down?" Cat inquired sweetly.

Tig pointed his beer bottle at her, giving her a mock scowl. "Yeah, smartass. I did. Maybe that's why Clay questioned my ability to be Sergeant at Arms."

"He _what_?"

"The van was still gone when we got back, Opie and Chucky were in it when we left Lin's. With the others gone, I thought that was a good time to talk about the rift. Clay went ballistic."

Cat shook her head. 'For Clay to question Alex's ability to do his job? That's too close for comfort!' She recalled how she'd given Opie a hard time about the lack of recon he and Alex had performed on the MCC prior to their arrest.

"Things just kept going downhill. Turned out Bobby, Jax, and Opie went on a rampage against Georgie Caruso. The asshole had broken into Caracara and stolen LuAnn's laptop, wrote the word 'dead bitch' on Lyla's dressing room door and killed the guard dog. For some reason, they took off to Laroy's bar, and found it's been taken over by Mayans. Another bit of business came up, we needed them but none of 'em would answer the phone. The business went haywire and–" His shoulders slumped and he couldn't look at her as he choked out, "Cat, I froze and left Clay in danger. Prospect had to cover for me."

She could see two things, that the admission upset him and he was out of beer. She rose from the recliner, retrieved a fresh bottle, and brought it to him. Instead of returning to the recliner, she curled up on the couch next to him, laying a comforting hand on his arm. He covered her hand with his for a moment before he opened the beer and took a long, steadying pull.

"You froze during a gun battle I take it?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. 'She's sharp, catches on quick. Doesn't have to have things spelled out.'

"Sounds like y'all were three men short, caught by surprise with bullets were flyin' everywhere. I suppose Clay was right in the thick of things instead of takin' cover?"

"You talk like you were there."

"Just taking an educated guess," she replied softly. 'No reason to tell him he talks in his sleep!' She stroked his hair and added, "The shit hit the fan when all y'all caught up with each other this evenin'. Then along comes Hale with the bad news about LuAnn, and it was like touching flame to a vat of gasoline."

"Had it not been for you coming in and taking charge, we might still be standing around. You were probably the only rational person in the room," Alex reached over to draw her head to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry about being so abrupt and dictatorial about it," she said. "I have a feelin' you're gonna get an earful from Opie about me. Not just about the kids. I went verbally Wolverine on him when he told me y'all got arrested."

"How so?" He tried not to grin at the way she described giving Opie Hell, but he couldn't help it. She could come up with some good ones. The image of metal claws shooting out of her hands like the Marvel comics character amused him. 'She certainly has the temperament for it!'

She shifted uncomfortably. "I'd really rather not rub more salt in your wounds, love."

He nudged her with his arm. "C'mon, out with it! If you thought it, and said it to Opie, you might as well say it to me."

She sighed in defeat. "If you insist. Just remember, I _did_ try to spare your feelin's. I questioned why all y'all didn't do a better job of checkin' things out before goin' in like revenuers after moonshine."

"You mean why _I_ didn't do a better job," Alex replied quietly. "Opie and I scouted the outside, saw two Aryans standing guard. I assumed the intel was accurate. Being ex-Marine, I should've known better."

"Opie said y'all found an entry on a computer from that Weston fella's house, put two and two together and went on the warpath."

"Yeah. When we caught up with the rest of the club, Jax warned us that Hale had called in the county boys. Clay decided to go ahead with the raid, and you know what happened from there."

She nodded. "I was pretty mad at y'all for not thinkin' more clearly and bein' more careful. I guess if Clay was hell bent on raidin' the joint, no amount of advance checkin' was gonna talk him out of it, would it?"

"Prolly not. But you _are_ right, babe. I've been fucking up lately. We didn't scout things out today before getting caught with our guard down."

"Maybe that's why you froze?" she offered hopefully.

'No, it's not the reason, but I can't tell _you_ the reason,' He took another swallow of beer. "It's possible," he replied. "If you're not careful, you can get yourself or someone else killed."

"I'm sorry for questionin' your actions when I wasn't there to see what happened. I should be more supportive, not critical," she said softly. She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze.

Alex put the beer on the table and reached over to her, putting his hand under her chin to force her to look at him. "Baby, I'd rather hear it from you than Clay any day of the week. I'm curious, what would_ you _have done differently?"

'Sometimes he's like a dog after a bone!' He held her chin to force her to look at him, so she continued, "Kept my feelin's about Chibs in check for one. Opie said the blinds were drawn, so peekin' through windows was out. There were only two guards on the main entrance, so I would've checked the other ones for guards."

"What good would that do?"

"If there were no guards, I would've been more suspicious about what was _really_ goin' on and thought a second time about goin' in."

His fingers tightened on her chin. 'There's no way she could know there were no guards at the door I used! She wasn't there!' His eyes began to glitter dangerously. 'Or was she? Could she have followed me out there?'

She stared intently at him, not liking the angry gleam in his eyes. "Listen, buster! Don't go gettin' all 'bad ass biker' on me for tellin' you what I think! If you're gonna break my jaw because you don't like what I'm sayin', hurry up and get it over with so I can kick your ass to the curb." She spoke calmly and evenly, her jaw under his fingers was hard as stone.

Her calm voice penetrated his suspicion. 'Dammit! She's not the enemy! There's no way she would've followed me and let us get busted!' he scolded himself. 'She told you after Zobelle's visit she has experience with hate groups!' He relaxed his grip on her chin, moving his hand up to caress her cheek. "I'm sorry, baby. I have no intention of hitting you. Not now, not _ever_."

She favored him with 'the look', which he returned with a contrite, apologetic grin. She took his hands 'just in case he flies off the handle again,' she assured herself. "All right. But keep the warnin' in mind, stud. I'm on your side, _comprende_?"

He nodded, his hands gently squeezing hers. "You know this because of your reporter background, right?"

She nodded. "I covered a few Klan rallies when I was a reporter. When it comes to membership rallies, both groups don't take kindly to interlopers. The Klan would post guards at every entrance. Y'all wouldn't have gotten in so easily if it'd been an actual membership thing. What upset me most was that ya'll weren't careful, let your anger take the lead, got careless and it got all y'all jailed."

"And that's what you told Opie?"

"That about sums it up. The lack of recon I could almost forgive, had y'all had the sense to back off once y'all knew the cops were on the way!" She released his hands to pace the floor in renewed agitation. "What the Hell were y'all thinkin'? No, don't answer that, there ain't no answer! A body expects a bunch of kids to go off half-cocked, but grown men should know better!"

Alex grinned at the way her temper was making her cheeks flush. The rise and fall of her chest from her rapid breathing was getting him aroused. "Wow! I feel a little sorry for Opie!"

She glared at him, knowing what was on his mind. She took a deep breath and replied,

"Well, it ain't fun fussin' at someone when they're not around to be fussed at!"

"You're right, baby. We let Zobelle play us the whole time."

"Now we've got to find a way to prove that the only thing y'all are guilty of is temporary brain damage," she grinned wickedly.

"Watch it, woman. You're treading on thin ice!" His warning held a hint of amusement to it. He held out his arms and she fell into them, burying her head in his chest. He stroked her hair, taking comfort in her presence and willingness to listen. "Y'know, I like it that you're being more open to club matters like this."

"Being on a need to know basis isn't good for you. The attack on Chibs and the arrest reminded me that what effects you affects me, too."

"You've always been supportive, even without full disclosure. Why change somethin' that ain't broke?"

"It_ is _broke when you feel like you can't confide in me, love and keep stuff bottled up inside. I bet you wouldn't have admitted y'all were goin' after Zobelle the other night if I hadn't brought it up."

"Yeah." He gazed at her intently, hoping that she wasn't just saying what she thought he wanted to hear. "You sure you wanna open yourself up to all this? There's no goin' back, baby."

"This is a partnership, love. I'm in it for the long haul, and it's time I start bein' a help to you instead of a pain in the ass."

Alex's arms tightened around her, his mind racing. 'I can't tell her the one thing messing with me, not this soon. I can't lose her yet.' He bent his head and kissed her hungrily. His desire for her never let up. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. Sex wasn't just a physical means to an end with her. 'Sometimes it seems like she's the only thing that keeps me from sinking. '

She responded to his kiss and his need for her just as ardently. "There's something that _you_ need to know, love. I ran into Chibs' wife, Fiona Hughes, today. She was sittin' in Chibs' room like a queen holdin' court. Do you know if Clay told the Ireland charter and they told her about Chibs?"

Alex frowned at the news. "No, baby. Clay didn't have the time. If Fiona's in town, that means Jimmy O is, too."

"Is that bad?"

He smiled grimly. "It ain't good for Chibs. I'll let Clay know in the morning. There's nothing we can do about it tonight."

Cat yawned sleepily. "Today feels like it lasted a year!"

"I agree, babe. Shall we call it a night?"

"Yeah. I'm tired. Hope you can curb that libido a bit longer. Maybe you'll get lucky in the mornin'."

"I know I will," he growled. His kiss was a promise.

Cat's dreams that night were haunted with images of the attacks on Chibs and Juice and of LuAnn's death. Those images gave way to Alex being carted off to Oregon, never to be seen or heard from again. The nightmares made her cry out in her sleep.

Hearing her cry out in the night brought Alex out of sleep in full Tig mode, alert to trouble. He felt real fear at the sight of her thrashing in her sleep as if she were battling an unseen foe.

He drew her close to him, pinning her arms with his hands and murmuring comforting words to her until she relaxed against him. She never fully awoke and he continued to whisper comforting words to her and nuzzle her neck until her breathing grew even again.

'Damn! I forgot that these last few days have been rough on her, too.' He snuggled against her, spoon style, hoping that she could sense his protective presence and that no other night demons would torment her.

* * *

The news of LuAnn Delaney's death had an affect on everyone connected with the club. No one knew whether LOAN or the rival porn producer Georgie Caruso had anything to do with her murder.

After leaving his mother's house and seeing Tara home safely, Jax went out to Caruso's studio to confront him about LuAnn. He discovered that production had shut down indefinitely, and found an actress willing to tell him the details.

"He rushed in, grabbed some stuff from his office and told everyone production was shut down before he took off," the actress informed Jax. "The asshole didn't say anything about paying us what he owes!" She was obviously upset with the producer, and had no qualms about telling Jax what he wanted to know. It certainly looked to him as if LuAnn had been Caruso's victim instead of Zobelle's.

That determination made it more difficult for him to face Big Otto at Stockton the next morning. Otto had asked him to keep LuAnn safe, and he'd failed. Otto was devastated by his loss, so it came as no surprise to Jax when Otto asked him to leave.

'It's probably better than getting socked in the jaw and Ottor getting solitary for it," Jax consoled himself. 'But it's not much better. He trusted me and I let him down.'

Alex awoke before Cat for once. He lay watching her sleep, wondering if he should just take a second 'rain check'. He examined the bandage on her hand, relieved that her thrashing around hadn't caused it to start bleeding again.

She stirred against him, her bandaged hand brushed against his chest. The texture of the gauze and tape made him instantly respond to her, despite his concern.

"Good mornin', love. Sleep well?" she murmured into his chest. She apparently had no memory of her nightmares.

"What do you think, woman?" he growled. "You ok?" He was actually thinking of the dreams that had disturbed her, but she mistook it for concern about her hand.

"You're welcome to find out, stud," she replied, letting her hand slide down his stomach. He didn't give her time to rescind the offer.

* * *

Clay, Opie, and Bobby went out to confer with Henry Lin about the gun deal. The Sons couldn't fulfill his order thanks to the ATF keeping an eye on their supplier. While waiting on Henry to arrive, Clay received a call from Rosen about the MCC fiasco.

"The surveillance tape is worthless. The quality is poor. We can tell where you guys were standing, and all the guns were pointing away from the crowd. The DA is on some kind of crusade, and refuses to consider dropping the charges. There's talk of charging you with terroristic threats."

Clay rolled his eyes. "Does he have a case?"

"Not really. None of the families are willing to testify on Zobelle's behalf. We have additional evidence that proves the shots weren't fired by you guys. I'll ask for a plea agreement to charge you with disorderly conduct and reckless endangerment with a firearm. No jail time, just community service."

"I'm all about serving the community," Clay replied. "What other evidence exists? I thought the tape was the only evidence."

"Cat took pictures of the podium the day after the arrest. The pictures show two shots were fired from behind it, not going into it. None of you were near it when the shots were fired, we can prove that much from the tape."

Clay's eyes widened with surprise. "Cat did that?" He would never have expected her to work to help clear them. It had surprised him to learn from Gemma of Cat's attempt to raise the bail money for Tig and the others as well as setting up the blood drive for Juice. 'The woman's having a change of heart about us. That'll be good for Tig.'

Clay shared the news about the tape and the lack of willing witnesses with Opie and Bobby, but chose not to say anything about Cat obtaining additional evidence to help them. He'd tell the club after he shared it with Tig.

Henry told Clay he could get guns but had problems with the Hammas pipeline due to INS entanglements. If the Sons could persuade the judge on the case to drop the charges, guns would flow easier for both sides.

Clay agreed to help as it was a win/win for both of them. 'Stahl's photos of the Hayes' meeting with Zobelle made it clear we've lost the IRA connection. This will be a good opportunity to replace it and get out of the porn business at the same time.'

When Jax returned from Stockton, Bobby warned him that Clay planned to pull the plug on the studio. Several of Caracara's actresses had been busted earlier that day for prostitution. Jax had gotten wind of the arrest from Unser, who'd caught up with the VP at the hospital while he and Prospect were visiting Chibs.

Jax had gone to the police station and talked to Ima, the actress that had a crush on him and one of the arrestees. He learned it wasn't Georgie Caruso who had set up the actresses. The timing of the call to the Caracara girls indicated Zobelle and LOAN was behind it. Jax was beginning to feel like his head was between a vice with LOAN and Zobelle twisting as hard as they could.

* * *

Alex insisted on examing Cat's wound before he left. He cleaned the puncture site thoroughly with peroxide again and looked it over for any signs of infection. He found no redness around the wound, the area appeared clean. He applied a clean gauze pad and tape to it. "I'd feel better if you had the doctor check it out," he advised. "Does it hurt?"

"No more than the puncture sites on my arms," she replied. "If the doc has time to see me, I'll go. Don't worry. It's minor compared to some of the wounds I've had to treat for you."

"Yeah, and you know what happened when the cut on my leg went untended too long," he countered.

"Don't remind me. You got the sliver out pretty quick, instead of several hours later. It'll be fine."

He glared at her as the prepaid beeped, alerting him to a message. "Goddamn stubborn, aggravating, annoying woman! You drive me crazy sometimes!" He pulled the prepaid from his pocket, listened and shut it off with a snort of annoyance. "Shit! I've gotta go. As far as the doctor is concerned. think about it, will ya?"

"I can do that," she replied, returning his goodbye hug and kiss. "See ya when I see ya."

Alex knew she wouldn't do more than consider his request, but didn't have time to debate the issue with her. 'There's more than one way to skin a Cat,' he thought as he stalked to his bike.

Though it meant incurring her wrath, Alex rode around the block to the coffeehouse and engaged Pete and Anna in a terse conversation concering Cat's injury.

"Don't worry, Mr. Tig," Anna replied, a soft smile lighting her face. "We'll make sure she goes to the doctor."

"Yeah," Pete added. "If she won't take care of herself, it's up to us to make sure she does, right?"

Tig nodded and winked at them. "Appreciate the back up. Good luck with her temper."

"You'll need it more than we will," Pete replied with a knowing grin.

"You're prolly right."

He retrieved the information Clay requested on the INS judge and rode out to the clubhouse. Bobby and Opie were already there, Bobby had made some banana bread but Tig wasn't hungry at the moment. He briefed Clay about the judge, anticipating having a part in the 'persuasion'. He was disappointed to be assigned to check out the Chinese gun supply and made no secret of it.

Clay sent the others out of the chapel and laid into Tig, reminding his Sergeant at Arms that they needed to draw Opie further into club dealings and why it was so important. 'As if I _need_ another reminder when it's constantly fuckin' with me!' Tig thought to himself. He agreed to the assignment, but he wasn't happy.

As Clay was showing Tig where the guns were to be tested, Jax burst into the chapel. Jax was angry that Clay wanted to close Caracara. The two got into a heated argument that included Clay reminding Jax he was responsible for LuAnn's death.

Jax pulled out his gun and armed it, causing the assembled Sons a moment of alarm. Tig tensed, ready to defend Clay if necessary, but Jax lay the gun on the table in front of Clay. He dared his step-father to make good on his threat from the first and only run for the IRA.

Jax spread his arms wide, his eyes never leaving Clay's fierce glare. Deliberately and slowly, Jax turned his back on his step-father, arms still outstretched, waiting. 'I feel bad enough about LuAnn, but Clay no business throwing LuAnn's death in my face! Not when he's responsible for killing a brother's wife!'

After a few tense moments where Clay held the gun in his hand, he made it safe and tossed it on the table. The VP reholstered his gun and declared the club would vote on the matter during 'church' the following evening. He walked out of the chapel, leaving confusion in his wake.

Tig remained upset over Clay's decision to exclude him from the 'persuasion' job. He wanted in on it, _needed_ to be in on it. He needed to find his way back from killing Donna. He also had doubts that Opie could carry out the assignment, considering how he'd botched the last one.

He approached Jax outside the clubhouse, asked to speak privately without Bobby or anyone else around who might take the conversation back to Clay. Jax was sick of secrets and refused to send Bobby away.

Tig laid his concerns about the job on the line with Jax. He wanted in as a back up, and felt Jax should be there to guide Opie. Jax felt Tig's concerns were valid and agreed to it. 'Tig's had his own issues since he killed Donna. He doesn't know I know. Frankly, I'm sick to Hell of all this back biting going on.'

They agreed to meet up later in order to take one vehicle to the judge's house. Tig nodded and went off on his bike. It wouldn't take him long to check the gun shipment. There was someone he wanted to see before the assignment.

* * *

Health and food rules prevented Cat from serving customers, roasting beans, or making pastries. That didn't bother her, there was always something else for her to do. What did perturb her was that Anna and Pete ganged up on her, forcing her to call the doctor for an appointment about her hand. "Y'all been talkin' to Tig behind my back!" She snarled.

"He did happen to come by, and mentioned you were being difficult. We volunteered to help," Pete replied, laughing at her scowling visage. "He just wants to make sure you're ok, Miss Cat. So do we."

"Damn fine thing when one's boyfriend and employees conspire," she fumed, accepting the receiver Miss Anna handed her to speak with her physician. There was an opening within a half hour, so she accepted it, more to get her staff off her back. "If y'all talk to Tig, and I'm sure y'all will, tell him he's not heard the last of this. Y'all are rats! Cats eat rats for dinner, y'know!"

"We love you, too, Miss Cat," Pete replied with a laugh and a wave as she huffed out to the car.

The physician looked over the wound, applauded Tig's first aid, gave her a tetanus shot as it had been years since her last one, and wrote a prescription for an antibiotic. "Keep it clean and dry as much as possible, change the bandage if you ride, and see me in a week to check it."

"As long as you're writin' out stuff, doc, will you do me a favor and write a note to prove I was here? It might keep my employees and my boyfriend off my back. Damn rats."

The doctor laughed goodnaturedly. In the short time she'd had Cat as a patient, she'd grown used to the woman's temperament. "Underneath the tough exterior beats a heart of gold. She's got a temper, but she's a good friend to have at your back," her cousin, who had been Cat's Indianapolis physician had written. "You take care of her, she'll watch out for you." She wrote a note on her prescription pad and handed it to Cat with a flourish. "Let me know if that doesn't suffice."

Cat returned to the coffeehouse, showed off her doctor's note and retired to the office area with Mr. Pete to work on the karaoke selections for the rally.

Miss Anna's children and their classmates had made several posters about the karaoke night. Two of those posters appeared on either side of the entrance to _Charming Pawse _the morning after the club's release from jail. By the end of the day, her male employees had taken them to the merchants up and down Main Street, asking and receiving permission to display the posters in their windows.

Only one merchant refused. AJ Weston had run Pete and Adrian out of _Impeccable Smokes _with threats of bodily harm if they ever crossed the threshold again. The men deliberately wanted to tweak Zobelle and his crew by their request, and had anticipated the reaction they received. Pete and Adrian were laughing out loud at Weston's reaction when they returned to the coffeehouse.

Their visit didn't faze Zobelle at all, but it did make Weston more determined than ever to strike out against Cat on behalf of LOAN. Zobelle laughed off the rally as no consequence to him or to LOAN and refused to discuss the matter with Weston. "She's of no concern to us, AJ, except as a means to an end. We need to adjust and adapt from our mistake with Gemma Morrow before we do anything against Ms. Marshall."

Weston took those words to heart. He _would_ watch how the Sons interacted with the Marshall whore, and if he could use her to hurt the club, he'd do it, with or without Zobelle's approval. As far as the rally against LOAN, if Zobelle wasn't willing to stand up for the Cause, Weston would.

"That might not've been the smartest move, Pete," Cat admonished him when he told her of their confrontation with Weston. "Zobelle and his group are gonna be annoyed with the rally as it is, we shouldn't rub their noses in it and invite trouble."

Pete and the other men looked disappointed. They thought their boss would appreciate their efforts. How could they have read it so wrong?

She maintained her disapproving scowl for a few more seconds then relented. "OK, that's the Tig response. We won't tell him. Unofficially, I'm tickled pink you rubbed their noses in it. It's sweet revenge for Zobelle and Weston tryin' to intimidate Anna."

She and Pete had worked out a basic outline of the upcoming event when Anna announced that a Harley was parking out front. Cat walked out to the business area so she could see firsthand the reaction the club visitor might have to the posters.

She was surprised to see Alex out front and watched as he strode to the door and paused to examine the posters. He pinched his nose with the fingers of one hand. 'That's not good,' she thought. "Anna, get a cup of black coffee ready for Tig. He looks like he needs it."

She wordlessly handed the cup to him as soon as he marched inside. "Thanks, baby. Looks like you're fully committed to this thing."

"You had your chance to voice objections to it. You didn't and we have a tight schedule here. Somethin' I need to know?"

He sipped the coffee, appreciating the warmth it gave his insides. The day was not going well, the latest clash between Clay and Jax had been chilling, even though it was a balmy 80 degrees outside. "Nah. You call the doc yet?"

"Yup, no worries. You did good."

He looked beyond her to Miss Anna and Pete, who nodded affirmatively. "She even brought a doctor's note," Pete grinned.

"That reminds me," Cat growled, slapping Tig's ass with her good hand. "No fair turnin' my staff into rats!"

"All's fair, baby. You should know by now I'll do what I have to do to get what I want. Especially when you're stubborn."

She favored him with 'the look' as he grinned wickedly at her. Her employees watched in amusement at them. Tig rubbed his backside, surprised that her slap actually stung. "Damn! You're gonna answer for that, woman!"

"Not in here, please!" Miss Anna interjected, her ears turning a bright shade of pink. "You two _do_ have a house for that kind of thing!"

"All right already!" Cat snarled, though she was smiling good naturedly. "Bunch of comedians, the lot of ya! Maybe I oughta consider an open mike comedy hour. Y'all are good for three seconds of material!"

Her comment was met with a chorus of cat-calls before her employees returned to their duties. "I have to pick up an antibiotic later, you'll be pleased to know. The doc said to keep it clean and dry as much as possible, and I had to get a shot!" She handed over the doctor's note to him. Instead of reading it and handing it back to her, he took out his wallet and stuffed it inside. "For safekeeping," he assured her.

"Hmpf!" She took his arm and added, "Wanna sit in the office for a bit? I'll show you some of the stuff we're workin' on for the rally."

He nodded, slipping an arm around her shoulders as they walked into the back. The employees exchanged a knowing grin. It felt good to them to have the pair back on good terms. The fight they'd had after Tig was injured was short lived, but it had scared her staff badly. Getting to be involved in the teasing made them feel a part of something special.

"Two bucks says they're not gonna stay in the back office," Pete murmured to Anna. She snorted a refusal, knowing that she'd lose.

Pete was right. They walked on out to the back yard to talk. Cat felt it would be better than the back office. "Less chance the rat pack will hear somethin' they shouldn't," she explained when Alex gazed questioningly at her.

"C'mon, baby. Go easy on them. They care about you," Alex replied. "If you're gonna be hissed off at someone, be mad at me."

"Don't worry, you'll get what's comin' to ya!"

He grinned lecherously at her. "I'm ready when you are."

"Insatiable thing! C'mon, Alex. Be serious with me. You didn't just stop by for a casual visit. What's up?"

Alex looked sideways at her. "What makes you think that anything's up?"

"The way you pinched your nose when you saw the posters. What's wrong?"

"Nothing where this rally of yours is concerned. It just surprised me at how fast this has moved from an idea to an event. You're not wasting time."

"Alex, you're stallin'. That's not like you. You didn't come all the way out here just to pump me for intel on the rally. There's somethin' botherin' you. Talk to me."

He sipped the coffee and laid a hand on hers. "You read me pretty well, baby. I'm gonna be out all night on an assignment. After the MCC FUBAR, I didn't want to just leave a message about it."

Cat stretched her legs out in front of her, absorbing what his disclosure meant. "You're takin' a walk on the dark side tonight, comes with the territory. Do you wanna give me the specifics now?"

He shook his head. "Nah. I'll fill you in when it's over. The less you know now, the better for you in case something goes wrong."

She started to protest, but his hand against her lips prevented it. "Hear me out, baby. You can be more of a help to us with clean hands. You've already proved your loyalty to me and to the club. I'm looking at the big picture."

"I understand," she said. This was a new area for them. Just like there was no guide book for wives/old ladies, there was no guide for full disclosure.

"Wait here a minute, I've gotta get a shirt from the house. Be right back." He got up from the lawn chair and strode into the house, returning a few minutes later with a grey sweatshirt in his hand.

He settled in his chair, stretching his legs in front of him and lit up a cigarette. "Might interest you to know you're not the only one who's turned off by porn. Clay wants the club out of it. He and Jax argued about it earlier. Jax invited him to gun him down."

Cat stiffened in her chair. "Good Lord! What's wrong with those two?"

"I don't know, baby. Clay didn't shoot him. He feels that we don't need the partnership with Caracara anymore, not just because LuAnn's dead, but because we have other ventures."

"Does that mean y'all are dropping out of the coffeehouse?"

"Nah. It's as clean as you are, baby. It's a legit cover and we need that. The Caracara girls fucked up, that's what pissed Clay and made him decide to get out of porn. We don't need that kind of grief."

She sighed with relief. She liked the partnership with the club. Her employees appreciated their presence and protection, and she'd personally come to like the various members of the Sons who frequented the coffeehouse. They'd become her second family.

The sunlight hit her face just right, and Alex frowned to see two dark spots on either side of her chin. They were barely visible, but his sharp eyes had caught them. His hand cupped her chin, fitting his fingers against the two dark spots. They were a perfect fit. "Damn, I did that last night."

"It's OK, love. Doesn't hurt, no more than beard rash or a hickey, which you've often left behind."

He placed a kiss on each of the bruises in apology. "I should be in better control of myself. Passionate beard rash is one thing. Leaving bruises on you because you're saying something I don't like is crossing the line.'

"Do you see me callin' the cops and havin' you up on charges of abuse?" she replied, one hand caressing his cheek. "If you _ever_ hit me, I'm gone. You didn't do this deliberately. You weren't malicious or mean. I'll tell you when you're too rough. Not to change the subject, when do you have to leave?"

He looked at his watch and drained his coffee cup. "Now. Gotta go check some hardware, then off to the assignment."

"Be safe, love. I'll be waitin' when you get back."

"Don't wait up, but be ready to give me what's coming to me when I get home," he reminded her. He pulled her up against him, enjoying how she fit against him. His chin rested on her head for moment before he cupped her chin and raised her face to his. She returned the goodbye kiss with an equal amount of ardor, a hint of what awaited him on his return.

They walked back through the coffeehouse to his bike. She watched as he put on his helmet, then she slapped his butt for the benefit of her employees and blew a kiss at him. "See ya when I see ya," she said as he started the bike. He grinned at her and roared away.

It didn't take long to check out the hardware. A good haul of guns, along with ammo. 'Prospect could've handled this with his eyes closed," Tig

grumbled to himself. 'I can't argue with keeping Opie close to the club under the circumstances, but I hope Clay gets over this shit. Hell, I hope _I_ get over this shit!'

Tig rode to the meeting place and climbed into the back of the van with Jax. Opie had taken the change in players with his usual stoicism, and didn't seem surprised when Tig joined them.

It was still daylight when they reached the judge's home outside Oakland. Just as Tig's intel had indicated, the house was upscale and secured by a tall hedge and a security gate.

Bobby parked the van next to the hedge and Tig inspected it. The hedge wouldn't be a hinderence, it could be easily climbed. It was more decorative than protective.

They sat in the van waiting for the judge to arrive. The plan was to talk to the judge, inform him of the importance of dismissing the case against Lin's man or his son would suffer the consequences. An easy job, and once completed it was just a matter of waiting to make sure the judge followed through.

The judge's silver luxury vehicle stopped in front of the gate and the Sons readied themselves to strike. Jax and Tig would take care of the judge while Bobby watched the front. The goal was to get him in the house as quickly and quietly as possible.

Following Alex's depature, Cat and Pete returned to the office to map out the remainder of the program. Then she turned her attention to administrative matters for the coffeehouse. She had decided to go ahead with merchandise, and called her cup supplier to discuss the cups she wanted to sell.

"We're not just local anymore, Jim," she explained to her supplier. "That's why I feel the time is right to offer some merchandise. We have a website that's generated a lot of interest and sales outside the county and state for our flavored beans."

"Are you planning any design changes?"

"Nope. What I need from you are photos of what you can do on soup size mugs, regular size coffee cups, travel tumblers and water bottles. Once you start production, we'll run 'em on line and here at the shop for sale."

"I'll have designs and prices in your inbox in a few hours, Cat."

"Ok, Jim. While you're at it, go ahead and send our standing order for the paper cups."

She hung up feeling satisfied with the step she'd taken. 'Bobby will be happy that we're getting the merchandise off the ground; more money for the club. Now I gotta remember to have Alex hook me up with the shirt supplier the garage uses. Might as well go whole hog.'

She wanted to put the cup design on the shirts, and knew it could work. 'It'd be nice if we could have shirts for the staff in time for the rally, debut 'em then. Then we can put 'em on the web site and offer them locally.' She wasn't an artist, but it wasn't hard to take a sheet of paper, draw a t-shirt, and add the cup design to the t-shirt. Though crude, the general idea of the shirts was clear.

During the evening, she did internet research, surfing the net for pictures of historical events to use in the opening. She set up file folders for each decade from World War II through 9/11. Each time she found an event, she saved it to the appropriate file. The hard part would be selecting which few pictures to use. There were so many!

The two-way remained silent throughout the evening, but she wasn't worried. 'Alex said the assignment would likely take all night. There's no need to call and ask if he's OK.' It occurred to her she could always leave a message, but she opted not to. 'Talkin' to voice mail won't be satisfyin'. If somethin' happens, he'll see to it that I get word.'

She put beer, Snickers bars, and a foil wrapped dinner plate in the fridge. Then she put the phones on the charger, leaving the two-way on as she turned in for the night. Her gaze fell on the framed picture of him. "Come home soon and be safe, love," she murmured.

Prospect was mopping the clubhouse floor when Happy passed through, nearly running Clay down. Clay was surprised to see Happy, since he'd been assigned to go with Opie and Bobby to the judge's house.

Happy explained the change, which made Clay go ballistic, turning over a table in anger. He calmed down as he remembered he needed help to flush Darby's less desirable ventures out of Charming. He told Happy to call the nomads together, the club had been deputized to get prostitution and crank out of Charming.

Clay, Prospect, Happy and the nomads had an enjoyable time rounding up the prostitutes and johns from the seedier motels in the area and turning them over to the local PD. Hale had also given Clay the location of Darby's newest crank factory. Clay thought it was appropriate that the factory was housed in a junkyard.

The Sons allowed Darby's men to clear out of the crank shop, which was an abandoned trailer. Happy threw a Molotov cocktail inside. The resulting explosion set off car alarms within a quarter mile radius, and effectively shut down Darby's meth operation.

Clay added a very final warning to the Nord leader pertaining to his operation. Darby had survived a hit from the Mayans but he doubted he'd be as lucky with the Sons. Still, he smarted over having his businesses shut down. He intended to sort that matter out with Zobelle then get even with the Sons.

* * *

Tig and Bobby met Clay in the Teller Morrow parking lot as Opie and Jax walked to their bikes. All four men were fatigued. Opie and Jax rode off without a word to Clay as Tig reported the guns had checked out.

Clay asked where the other two were going, Bobby stated they were going home. The job had been completed, they'd waited to make sure the judge followed through.

'Home. That's where I wanna go,' Tig thought. He was still shaken from being unable to take over where Opie had left off with the judge. It was another FUBAR on his part and he hoped Bobby wouldn't bring it up. 'Not now, man. Let's get some rest, then we can discuss it.'

Clay nodded. A full debriefing could wait. The job was done, that was the main thing. "Go home. We'll talk later."

Tig breathed an inward sigh of relief. Sunrise was only a couple of hours old. 'Cat'll be awake soon, if she's not already. I need to be with her; everything seems to make sense when I'm with her.'

He patted the silent two-way in his pocket. He'd debated giving it to her all those months ago, wondering if it would be more of a tether than tool. She'd never abused it. He seemed to call her more than vice versa. 'Any other woman would drive me nuts calling the damn thing all the time. Maybe that's why I trusted her with it in the first place.'

The front porch and living room lights were on, casting a warm, welcoming glow. He strode inside and walked straight to the refrigerator. There were several bottles of beer, a few Snickers bars, and a foil wrapped plate waiting for him. There was also a note taped to the foil:

"Hey. If you're hungry, remove the foil and heat in the microwave for three minutes. If it's after 830 AM when you come in, would you please turn on the coffeepot? Cat."

He grinned and checked his watch, which read 830. He didn't hear any signs of life from the bedroom, but he complied with her request to start the coffee brewing and muched on a Snickers bar while waiting for the cycle to run. He didn't feel like having a beer, his nerves were frayed and this was one time beer wouldn't help. 'I need coffee and a snack more than alcohol and a full meal.'

He filled two cups with the hot beverage, adding some of Cat's favorite creamer to hers and walked into the bedroom. She was curled up facing his side of the bed, her bandaged hand resting on Misty, who was curled as close as possible to her. Both feline and human were sleeping peacefully. There was no indication that she'd had nightmares again while he was gone. It was quite a difference from the other night when she'd been plagued by the bad dreams that woke him.

He crept to her bedside table and placed the cup of coffee on it, then stroked her hair before moving to the other side of the room to the chair. 'I'm tired, but too wound up to sleep. Don't wanna disturb her. I'll just sit and watch her awhile.'

He had just gotten settled when he saw a pair of green eyes gazing at him from under brown fringe. "Hey," she called sleepily to him.

"Hey, back," he replied. "There's coffee on the table."

"You're not gonna make me _earn_ it this time?" She petted Misty as she eased into a sitting position against the headboard.

Alex didn't wait for her to reach for her coffee cup. He placed his cup on his night stand and jumped onto the bed. "I can take payment for room service!" He took her in his arms and kissed her soundly as she laughed against his mouth. Misty squeaked in protest over nearly being squished and scooted to the foot of the bed, lashing her tail in distaste.

Cat was happy to see him, but she could sense there was something troubling him. 'Something didn't go well with the assignment,' she thought, slipping her glasses on when he released her. She sipped a little coffee while gazing intently at him. His eyes were red, and not from having pulled an 'all nighter'. "Something go wrong last night?"

"Damn! Am I that easy to read? I'm really fuckin' up! Not even a nice to see ya or missed ya!" he exclaimed, sipping his own coffee.

"No, love, you're not fuckin' up. I would've thought the 'nice to see ya, missed ya last night' was inherent in the room service payment!" she replied. "You just look like somethin' went knockers up. Need to talk about it?"

'God, I love those colorful descriptions she uses! It might be easier to talk to her before the shit hits the fan with Clay.' He sighed deeply and asked. "You don't mind?"

"Alex, if I minded, I wouldn't offer," she replied, reaching out to clasp his hand in hers. "Tell me whatever you feel comfortable in tellin' me."

He decided to throw caution to the winds. "You know by now we're not 'just' a few mechanics with an interest in Harley's."

She nodded. "It wasn't hard to figure out. Y'all don't exactly channel the light side of the Force, y'know."

He glared at her. 'This is no time for humor,' he though, but her expression was serious. 'She's not poking fun, it's her way of telling me she knows we aren't law abiding citizens,' his glare softened as he added, "We run contraband like you did, 'cept we run guns instead of booze."

"Same thing, different substance. I suppose y'all have had a few rumbles with rival gangs as well?"

He smiled grimly. "Haven't heard that word in years, but you could call 'em that. We keep the businesses local. Sometimes we're asked to 'persuade' people to see things a certain way. Like I told you long ago, I've done things that would scare you, things I'm not proud of. Most of the time, I did what had to be done, especially if it was a choice of me or them. I prefer living."

"I know," she said softly. "What's got you wound up tighter than the springs in Tigger's tail?"

He sipped at his coffee, momentarily wishing he'd brought a beer with him. 'Nah. Don't need liquid courage to talk to her.' He looked directly into her eyes as he replied, "Last night, a few of us went to 'persuade' a fella. We had intel that was supposed to give us emotional leverage. Things started out OK, but went to Hell fast."

She sat silently, her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. Her green eyes were clear and calm as she listened. Her open, non judgemental expression encouraged him to continue.

"The guy had a kid away at college. We were gonna use threats against the kid as that leverage. No one thought the kid would come home while we were persuading the father. Turned out the father doesn't give a shit about his kid."

Alex stood up and paced the bedroom, causing Misty to leap from the bed and run out the door. The FUBAR of the night before was still so fresh, he could close his eyes and see it unwind all over again.

* * *

Clad in dark clothes and ski masks, the Sons hustled the judge into his house and tied him to a chair in the kitchen. They were preparing to use their powers of persuasion when they stiffened at the sound of a key in the lock of the front door.

Tig was standing closest to the front door. He indicated he'd take care of the intruder and crouched in readiness. The door opened and a young man entered the living room, carrying an armload of possesssions. He leaped behind the youngster, shut the door and knocked the kid to the floor. His possessions flying all over the place.

Tig marched the kid into the kitchen where his father was tied up. His initial thought was that their 'emotional leverage' had just dropped into their laps and would make the job easier. The kid's father glared angrily at his child and held him accountable for the Sons' presence.

Tig's heart skipped a beat when he heard the judge utter his given name. 'Damn! We're fucked!' Then he realized the younger man shared his first name. Tig was relieved that his true identity was still a secret.

The kid was quickly tied to another chair and placed next to his father, who refused to look at his offspring. He was unconcerned that his child was frightened to death. 'This is not good,' Tig thought, watching the interaction between father and son.

It was obvious their quarry didn't care what the Sons did to his kid, but Opie thought there was a chance of salvaging the situation. 'He thinks no father would let his kid be deliberately hurt in front of him. He's thinking like a caring parent. I don't think this guy gives a shit.'

The Sons watched as Opie did everything he could to use the man's son as a tool. The judge continued to ignore his son's plight and didn't bat an eye when Opie shot the kid's toe, nor did he comment when Opie's gun hovered over the kid's knee.

'Man, I've seen cold hearted assholes before, this guy almost makes me look like an amateur!' It bothered Tig that a father could care so little about his own child.

Opie was enraged by the judge's contempt for his son and knocked the younger man, still tied to the chair, onto his back. Though Jax and Bobby tried to stop him, Opie was as strong as a charging bull. He hollered for the judge to watch, and shoved the barrel of his gun into the kid's mouth, forcing it in as far as it would go.

Opie was so worked up that the Sons thought he would kill the kid. All the guys were yelling at once. 'I'm no candidate for father of the year, but if anyone threatened my girls right in front of me, I'd do everything possible to protect 'em.' Tig felt his innards freeze, as if a giant, cold fist had clamped onto them.

'I can't tell Cat what happened next. If I do, then the shit about Donna will come out, and I'll lose her. No matter how much it fucks with me, I can't do it!' The only thing keeping him going was that she didn't look frightened or upset by what he'd shared so far. There was no hatred or condemnation for him in her expresion.

He continued pacing in agitation. 'How can I tell her that I saw what Opie would do to me if he ever finds out the truth?' As he paced, he recalled that dreadful waking nightmare of what might happen. Instead of the judge's kid, he'd seen himself lying on the floor, tied to a chair, with Opie's gun shoved to the back of his throat, while an enraged, grief stricken Opie crouched over him, yelling in guttural rage. 'How can I say that when he fired those shots my body jerked in cadence and there was no one to prevent it from happening? God help me, I can't!'

Alex's pacing reminded her of a caged wildcat wanting to be released from its prison. 'Whatever is bothering him, I can't force him to tell me.' She remained silent, waiting with an open mind and heart.

Alex breathed deeply as he paced and continued, "At the last minute, the gun was pulled out of the kid's mouth and three shots were fired into the wood floor instead. There was no sound in the house but our heavy breathing and the kid's whimpering. The guy just looked at us in stony anger that we didn't kill his kid.'

"Judas Priest!" she whispered. She was aghast at the man's attitude herself, and could only imagine how Alex would've taken it, despite his absentee father status.

"I froze again. When it was my turn to do some 'persuading', I couldn't do it!' In actuality, he had slumped against a piece of furniture, his body shaking uncontrollablly from his waking nightmare. "Oh shit, oh shit! I can't do this!" The words had tumbled out of his mouth while the ski mask covered his tears.

"But the job _did _get done and the guy saw things all y'all's way," she observed quietly.

"Yeah. We found the emotional leverage we needed. The guy's a widower; he kept a lot of letters from his wife. We threatened to destroy those and got what we were after."

"Does Clay know what went down?"

He shook his head, his hand pinching his nose. "Only that the job was done."

"He may not find out about you freezin', love. Whoever else was with you won't benefit by rattin' you out to Clay. If my opinion means anything, seems like it would cause more trouble in the long run!"

Alex sat down next on her side of the bed, his shoulders slumped in fatigue and dispair. "I wish it were that easy, baby. That makes twice in a week that I've not been able to do what was necessary."

"Out of how many times? Thousands?" she put her hands on his shoulders and drew him back against her chest, her hands rubbing lightly against his temples, massaging away the stress from the night's endeavors.

"Everybody goes through rough spots, Alex! It's a part of life," she continued. "Sounds like the father in you reacted to how that asshole treated his kid. Any decent parent would! There's obviously something going on between that man and his kid that is fucked up big time. You couldn't have known that."

Alex kept his eyes closed as she continued massaging his temples. 'I hate lying to her, but it's safer this way." He relaxed under her ministrations. His headache was receding and he was feeling less tense. "You might be right. No use worrying about it until it happens."

"How can I help?"

It was a simple question. "You already are. I appreciate that you don't call the two-way to check on me when I'm on business."

She shook her head. "It's so little. I'm no shrink, but it seems like your self confidence has taken a nose dive lately. What's it gonna take to help you get it back?"

"I can think of something you can do that will help a _lot_," he grinned lecherously. "I think you owe me something for making your staff rat on you?"

"You're always thinkin' about that!" she laughed, moving her hands from his head to reach under his shirt, her hands moving over his chest in rythmic circles. He gazed up at her under heavily lidded eyes. She bent over him and kissed him deeply, allowing him to do whatever he wanted to purge his own demons.

He slept a few hours while she worked on the montage for the rally. When he woke up, she had coffee brewed and he found her in the library, sitting on the floor surrounded by vinyl albums and CD cases. She had a notepad in her lap and a pen behind her ear.

He carried a cup of fresh coffee with him and settled in the rocker to keep her company as she worked. "You sorting through stuff for a yard sale?"

"Not hardly. Lookin' for music to use for the openin'. I want something appropriate from the 60's on up to the current day, stuff that'll set the mood."

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"I'm not sure yet. The 60s are the easiest; that's the Peace era. The other decades are gonna be harder. Right now, I'm just cullin' through our library for ideas."

Alex grinned at her use of the word 'our' for the music collection. "Don't recall that I contributed anything to this library of 'ours'."

"You know the old sayin', love. What's mine is yours and vice versa. Haven't heard you complain about _that_ benefit."

His gaze took in the four long shelves of vinyl, two towers of CDs that stood as tall as him, and another tall tower of cassettes. "We do have an extensive music collection. Need some help?"

She shook her head. "Not with this. But there is somethin'." She stood up and stepped nimbly over the stacks of music, holding out her hand to him. "C'mon to the office, I wanna show you somethin'."

She took out a folder from the desk and handed it to him. He opened it and found her work-up of the proposed _Charming Pawse_ shirts.

"The drawings aren't the best; I can't draw a straight line with a ruler. Will the shirt suppliers for Teller Morrow be able to make sense out of 'em?"

Alex removed the renderings from the folder, looking over the white on black long sleeve and black on tan short sleeve shirts. "This is your plan for merchandise, right?"

She nodded. "There's gonna be cups too. Jim, my supplier, sent the pics and prices last night. Thanks to Juice's work on the webpage, we've been doin' a lot of flavored bean sales outside the county and state. Stands to reason that the merchandise will sell just as well."

"Makes good sense to me, baby. Why just one long sleeved black?"

"That's for me. The tan is for the staff. Could the shirt supplier get these made up before the rally? I know it's short notice, but I'd like to debut the shirts then."

"They will. I'll make sure of it."

She glared at him. "Alex, I don't want you intimidating them."

He assumed an innocent 'who me?' expression. "Baby, I'm hurt! I don't intimidate, I 'persuade'. Besides, if they wanna keep Teller Morrow happy, they'll have your shirts ready. I'll take 'em there later."

Satisfied with his response, she fixed a hearty breakfast for him. They listened to her favorite radio station while he ate. The hourly news led with the story about an overnight fire at Caracara Studios. The report indicated that arson was suspected and the entire interior of the building was destroyed.

"Damn! Chucky was crashing there!" Alex fumed. He felt concerned about Chucky; it was his idea for the little guy to work there. He secretly liked the weird accountant; it took balls to jerk off in front of other people, whether it was a mental problem or not.

"He's probably ok, love," Cat observed. "If anyone had been killed, it would've been the lead part of the story. I suspect Chucky's just laying low out of fear that he's gonna be accused."

"I hope you're right, babe."

When Tig arrived at the clubhouse, he learned that Jax blamed Clay for the fire, and had announced his intention to go nomad. That would take time to arrange, but Tig was wholeheartedly behind the idea. 'It'll put an end to all the tension within the club!'

Gemma had been busy with making arrangements for LuAnn's funeral at Otto's request. It was questionable if Otto would be able to attend. Not that the warden wouldn't allow him to attend, the state's budget problems left precious little cash in reserve to pay the guards that would escort him.

There _was_ an option. Not only did it require the posting of a cash bond, but someone without a criminal record would have to take responsibility for Otto during his furlough.

The money wasn't a concern for SAMCRO. There weren't very many people in their circle who didn't have some kind of criminal record. The only people they trusted who had 'clean hands' were either Tara or Cat.

The club met to discuss the matter. Jax and Piney were the only members not in attendance. Jax was away and hadn't answered his phone. Piney was up at his cabin and hadn't been heard from in days, but that wasn't unusual.

"The biggest problem about this is Otto doesn't know either of them very well and vice versa. With Agent Stahl sniffing around, we can't have one of them sign him out and we put him up here. Stahl will be watching for something like that." Clay explained.

"Whichever lady we ask, providing she accepts the job, will have to get comfortable with Otto real fast," Bobby observed. "That's a lot to ask of either when they've never met him."

"We can't allow a brother to miss his wife's funeral. Both of them have done a lot for the club, that'll mean a lot to Otto," Clay added.

"Why not put the question to them and see who steps up?" Prospect offered from his spot behind Jax's vacant chair.

"Because Cat's already done a lot without being asked first. More than Tara to be honest," replied Bobby.

"With Jax planning to go nomad, would Tara _want_ to help us now?" Opie added.

"You've been pretty quiet about this, Tig," Happy said.

"Because I_ know_ what my old lady will do," he growled. "Just waiting for the jaw jacking to get done so you can hear it from her."

"Then let's hear it!" Half Sack urged.

At a nod from Clay, Tig withdrew the two-way and waited for Cat to answer before putting her on the loudspeaker.

"Hey, babe, have you on speaker. The club needs a favor."

"Hey back. Hello, guys!" She called out. "What's up?"

"Otto needs someone without a criminal record to sign him out for LuAnn's funeral." Clay explained.

This was no surprise to her; she and Alex had discussed the situation before he left after his breakfast. "If that's what it's gonna take so he can bury his wife, I'm in." she replied.

Tig never doubted her response. He gripped the phone tighter, wishing she was on the receiving end of the appreciative squeeze. 'I'll make up for it later.' The others let out a loud collective sigh of relief.

"So what do I have to do? Besides pick him up from prison and bring him back, that is."

"Well, there's the chance you'll be cuffed to him the entire time," Prospect replied.

Bobby glared at the younger rider. "That might not be needed, Cat. The guy's nearly blind."

There was a long silence on her end. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. "Tig, may we speak privately?"

"Sure, babe," he cast a look that snarled 'way to go!' at Half-Sack. He took the phone off speaker and added, "It's just you and me. You having second thoughts because of what Prospect said?"

"No, love. I'm just wondering how _you_ feel about the idea of me bein' handcuffed to another fella," she explained.

He could picture that wayward eyebrow of hers sneaking up her forehead, and the grin that accompanied it. "I trust you."

"You _do _understand, dearheart, that if I'm cuffed to Otto, you would finally have me in a _menage __a trois? _ I seem to recall that bein' one of your fantasies. Course, it'd be you two men and me as opposed to two women and you. Might not be as much fun for you."

"Woman, you - are – so – evil!" he growled. Wild roars of laughter broke out around the table as the club caught on to the gist of their conversation.

"I just wanted you to be aware of the big picture, love. You can put me back on speaker if you want."

"You'll pay for that, woman," he snarled as he switched the phone back into loudspeaker mode. His comment was met with more racous laughs.

"So you're in, Cat?" Clay asked once the riders' settled down under his icy glare.

"I'm in. Just one question. Is there any way for me to meet with Otto before we bring him back to Charming? I don't think it's fair to spring me on him without advance warning."

'Hell, it's not fair to spring him on _you_, baby,' Tig thought. 'But that's what we're doing.'

"You and Tig can go there today. He knows Otto and can introduce you. You can fill out the paperwork," Clay replied. "We owe you, Cat."

"No, you don't, Clay. I'll see ya when I see ya, Tig."

"Later, babe." He closed the phone and slipped it in his pocket. "If we're done, I'll go get her and head to Stockton."

"We're done. Happy, get the word out to the charters and nomads so that we have plenty of riders for escort. Bobby, you and Prospect might want to get Otto's bike out, check it over and clean it up. He can't ride, but the man may want to visit his bike."

The only thing that troubled Cat about taking responsibility for Otto was the idea of being attached at the wrist to someone she didn't know. Despite the fact that he was a Son and Alex vouched for him, the idea was a little nerve wracking. The two-way beeped for her attention as she was mulling over the situation. "Hey!"

"Hey, back. How soon can you be ready to ride?"

"As soon as I put on my jacket," she replied.

"I'm on my way to pick you up. Be sure to get your helmet out of the closet. I want to see it on your head when I get there."

"I'll be ready and waiting," she promised. She smiled at his constant battle with her over safety gear. She rarely wore a helmet in town, but would for any out of town runs. Alex knew that. He would prefer she wear it every time she rode and never failed to remind her.

She was leaning against her bike when he pulled into the driveway. He surprised her by gesturing for her to get behind him. As she settled on the seat, he explained, "I thought you might appreciate a little togetherness."

"Makes bein' forced to wear the brain bucket a little more tolerable," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. She signaled with a thumbs up that she was ready to roll.

During the ride to Stockton, though she was sorely tempted to play 'United Nations' (Russian hands and Roman fingers) on him, Cat kept her hands dutifully locked around his waist. They were riding and he needed to be able to keep his concentration on the road. That didn't prevent him from engaging the throttle lock for the straightaways and engaging in some fast fingerwork of his own on her!

Alex enjoyed having her sitting behind him. It reminded him of the first time he'd taken her on the back of his bike. 'It's a lot better when she's awake, though I wish she didn't keep her hands perfectly still! We need to double up more often.'

Cat had seen the inside of a jail before, when her junkie boyfriend was a guest of the county and she'd gone to visit him. The visitation process hadn't changed, there was a lot of hurry up and wait. She and Alex signed in, showed their driver's licenses and were searched for contraband.

When she asked about the process of getting Otto released to her for the funeral, she was whisked from Tig to meet with an intake officer for an interview. She then had to fill out a large pile of forms, get fingerprinted, and wait for her background check to come through. 'I'm surprised they don't ask for a piss sample!' she thought as she waited.

"Well, Ms. Marshall, your record is clear," the warden announced. She'd been left in the waiting area for over an hour after the interview and feeling claustrophobic. "Not even a parking ticket in twenty years."

"So Otto can go to his wife's funeral?"

"Yes, you can pick him up tomorrow and he'll have a 48 hour furlough."

"I appreciate it, sir. Thank you. Will he have to be handcuffed to me?"

"Normally it's required. I'm waving that because of the recent injury he sustained. He's going through enough right now; there's no need to put him through further distress."

She made the necessary arrangements for the following day. She was then reunited with Alex, who'd been left waiting for her in the reception area.

"Everything go ok?" He asked anxiously, knowing how she felt about enforced waits and small rooms. He didn't like being in the prison's visiting area so soon after his experience with the SJCCF. The separation from her had made him appreciate her claustrophobia.

"I passed with flyin' colors," she replied. "They're giving him a 48 hour furlough and no cuffs required."

"Ready to meet the man?"

She nodded, trying to hide her nervousness, but he could tell she was skittish as a newborn fawn.

He drew her close and whispered "It's OK, baby. I'm right here with you, and Otto's a brother."

"I know. It's dumb to be nervous. It's this place, that's all. Too enclosed for my taste."

He hugged her again to let her know he understood. He'd be just as happy to get out of there, too.

They had to leave their coats and jewelry in lockers, and were finally allowed into the visiting room. It reminded her of high school lunchrooms with long tables and attached benches. They walked to one of the far tables, where Otto was sitting alone. He had a patch over the eye the Aryans had gouged out. The other eye had a scar crossing it. He wore a kerchief around his head. LuAnn's name was tatooed on one forearm.

"Who's there?"

"Tig. I brought my old lady to meet you. She's springing you for the funeral. Cat Marshall, this is Big Otto."

Otto motioned for them to sit down. As they settled on the benches, Cat murmured, "I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, sir."

Otto found himself liking the woman's gentle voice with the hint of a Southern drawl to it. He could hear her sincerity. There was nothing false about her. He turned his face to her and stretched out his hand in greeting.

She glanced at the watching guard, who nodded assent before she firmly clasped his hand.

He was surprised by her grip, no cold fish handshake or attempt to outmuscle him. "You can call me Otto." Turning towards Tig he added, "Wow!"

"You got that right, brother," he agreed.

"Before y'all get down to talkin' business I've got an agenda of my own. Is there anything special you want while you're our guest, sir – I mean, Otto?"

He couldn't contain his surprise at the way she phrased the question. 'She referred to me as a guest, when I'm the furthest thing from it!' He turned back to her and replied "No, Ms. Marshall. Thanks for asking. No one can give me the one thing I really want."

She lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Given the fact that you're gonna be our guest, let's skip the formalities. Call me Cat." She squeezed his arm, conveying with the gesture her sincere sympathy and understanding. "If anything comes to mind, we can always stop off for it tomorrow on the way home."

'She didn't say 'on the way back to Charming' but 'on the way home'. That's nice.' He nodded at her and turned his attention back to Tig.

"Is there anything new in the investigation?"

"Nah. We think it might've been Georgie Caruso. He and his boys took off to Taiwan the next morning, his studio's shut down indefinitely. Unser says the Caracara fire was arson, but there's no other information yet."

"There's no doubt in my mind that Caruso killed LuAnn. He planned it and left knowing the club would come after him. As far as the studio, who knows or cares?" Otto lowered his head to his crossed hands. "I want to know who's responsible for killing LuAnn, and I want them to hurt, Tig."

"I understand, brother."

"I'm not happy with Jax," Otto continued. "I asked him to keep LuAnn safe when the club became partners with her. Caruso just kept at her and Jax didn't take it seriously." He lay his head down on his folded hands again.

"You're gonna hear this sooner or later. My lady already knows. Jax is going nomad," Tig stated flatly.

Otto nodded. "It might not be such a bad idea. That's gonna take time, so he'll be there for the funeral." He turned to face Cat, his voice weary and depressed. "Don't worry, Cat. I won't take out after him while you're putting up with me. You don't need that kind of hassle."

Cat's eyes flashed angrily. "Otto, we're_ not '_puttin' up with you', so I don't wanna hear any more of that kind of talk outta ya!"

Tig laid a warning hand on her leg. He knew she meant well, but Big Otto wasn't the type who took chastizement from anyone, especially a woman.

"Don't you be warnin' me off, Tig!" she added sharply, favoring him with 'the look'. " Otto might as well get used to me; he's gonna be spendin' a lot of time with me!" She turned her attention back to Otto and continued, "I don't pull punches, Otto, and call 'em like I see 'em. I'm serious about this. You're a brother, and you're a welcome guest, not a pest. No more of that kind of talk from you, understand?"

Otto felt a small smile touch his lips. 'Feisty little wildcat! Tig's got his hands full with that one!' He smiled at her, a small but genuine smile. "Yes, ma'am!" His grin faded as quickly as it'd come as the reason for their presence hit again. "Maybe I should have come to you, Tig. LuAnn might still be alive."

There was really nothing either of them could say. Tig knew how he'd feel if something like that ever happened to Cat. He was lucky and knew it but didn't want to rub his friend's nose in it.

For all her exasperation with him earlier, Cat felt Otto's pain. She'd been there and wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.

The guard signaled to Tig that their visiting time was over. He nodded an acknowledgement. "They're giving us the time's up signal, so we gotta get going. Need anything from your house when we come back?"

He shook his head. "They'll issue the clothes I wore here back to me. If someone can get a pair of black jeans, boots, and a shirt from the house, I'd appreciate it. I don't know if I could handle going there."

"You've got it, brother." Tig lay a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Hang in there, man."

"Yeah."

Cat rose and went around the table to take Otto's face in both her hands. "There's nothing Tig or I can say to ease your pain, Otto. We're not even gonna try. You're part of the family; we're here for you. I care, even though we've only just met."

Otto placed his hands on hers and held them there for a moment. "Thanks, Cat. I'll see you tomorrow." As the pair walked away he added softly "You take good care of your woman, Tig. She's one in a million. Lucky bastard."

Cat did a lot of thinking on the ride back to Charming. She knew that the club would call in charter riders and nomads to act as escort to the cemetery. 'Otto should have the spot right in front of the hearse, not riding in a limo behind it. It's obvious he can't pilot a bike, but would he be willing to ride double? Would Clay allow _me_ to take Otto on the back of the Yamaha?'

She knew she could ask Alex once they got home; he wouldn't get made about her inquiries. She put away her jacket and helmet once they were home and pulled a beer out of the refrigerator for him.

"What's wrong, baby? You've been quiet ever since we left Stockton. You didn't even notice my wandering hands!"

"I've been thinkin' about gettin' Otto through the next couple of days. The service and procession to the burial are goin' to be hard on him."

"That's a lot to have on your mind, especially when it's not your problem," he observed.

She sighed. "It _is_ my problem in a way. Otto's gonna be our guest. I wanna make things as comfortable for him as possible, and that means not ignorin' the obvious. You know how my mind works. Once it starts on a problem, it won't let go 'til I find a solution."

He took her hand and led her to the couch to sit with him. "Tell me."

"Is Otto completely blind or does he have some sight? I really couldn't tell for sure."

"His right eye is weak. I believe he can see forms and colors. The best way to describe it is you see better without your glasses."

She winced. That didn't sound promising. "Then he won't be able to ride in front of the hearse. At least, not on his own. Is there a chance that he could ride behind me on _Blackie 2_?"

Alex considered her question with narrowed eyes. 'I don't like the idea of another man sitting behind _my_ wife on her bike,' he thought. 'She's right, though. Otto deserves to be in the escort. He can't 'bitch ride', no man will do it.' He replied, "There's just a couple of problems, babe. Your bike's not a Harley, and you're not a voting club member."

Her eyes flashed with irritation, similar to what she'd felt at Stockton. "I suppose it's some kind of club code that y'all have to have voting privledges to be in the escort. Otto still has those privledges, doesn't he?"

He nearly choked on his beer. 'Damn! Can't get a damn thing past her!' He nodded a reluctant affirmative.

"Is there any reason a member _can't_ 'bitch ride' something other than a Harley in the escort if he's pysically unable to ride?"

He glared at her. "Well, babe, it _is_ a Harley club. I'm not against having Otto ride in the escort. I just don't see how it can happen. It's rare for an escort to have a rider and passenger, especially a female rider with a male passenger."

"Ah, ha!" Cat seized on the loophole. "Rare. It's not entirely out of the question then, is it?" Rare didn't mean can't or won't.

Alex knew he'd been boxed in and raised his hands in submission. "OK, you win! I'll talk to Clay about it. He might be more open to the idea if you were willing to use Otto's bike. He was having it brought out of storage when I left."

Cat pondered that possibility. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable pilotin' someone else's ride. Hell, I've never piloted _Blue_! Otto might not be comfortable with someone else pilotin' his bike for him."

"Why in Hell is this so important to you?" his eyes were glittering dangerously. She knew he was getting territorial like he had at the reunion.

"Settle down, love. I feel bad for Otto. He's in prison, his wife is dead, and his vision won't permit him to take part in the funeral in the way he should and probably wants to. I guess it's the 'fixer' in me, wantin' to make things right."

The dangerous gleam faded from his eyes and he reached his arm out to her, guiding her head to his shoulder. Her arms circled his waist as he stroked her hair. "I'm sorry, baby. Should've known better. It's nice of you to want to make things easy for Otto, but some things can't be fixed."

Clay was relieved when Tig brought Cat's idea to him. 'I should've known she'd offer a solution. She always does,' he thought. He'd been wrestling with the problem of Otto's placement in the escort. 'As far as I'm concerned, if Tig's comfortable with the idea, I don't have a problem with it.' He puffed on his cigar a few moments as he considered the idea. "We'll put it to the club. If it goes by them, the charters and nomads will fall in line."

Clay called the others into the chapel. Jax was still absent but this matter wasn't something that needed a full majority. "Otto can't see to ride solo, and Cat doesn't feel comfortable piloting his bike for him."

The other Sons nodded their appreciation over her respect for another man's ride.

"Traditionally, the escort has always been club members and Harleys," Clay continued. "Cat's bike is a rice burner but she's offered to pilot her bike and carry Otto in the escort instead of consigning him to a limo."

"I'm OK with it," Tig added.

"Tradition is fine to uphold," Opie added. "There's a time to uphold tradition, and a time to do what's right. This is the time to do what's right." They agreed to allow Cat to pilot Otto on her ride.

Tig called to give her the good news, and was surprised that it wasn't met with as much enthusiasm as he'd anticipated. "What's wrong, babe? I thought you'd be happy to hear this."

"Don't get me wrong, love. I appreciate the club's support. It's just that the situation shouldn't have to be necessary," she replied quietly.

Tig sighed. He wasn't exasperated with her, but sometimes she could be a little_ too_ empathetic with people. "I understand, baby. Thanks to you and your damn stubborness, Otto gets his rightful spot in the escort."

"I'm not sorry to be a pain in the ass where this is concerned, love," she replied. "Thanks for takin' it to the club, and tell the guys I won't let 'em down."

"They know that, babe. Guess I was thinking of the last time, when you had to drive. Thought you'd be a little excited at the prospect. Guess there's nothing to be excited about in this case."

"Your heart was in the right place. Thanks for understandin' love. See ya when I see ya."

Cat drove the PT to Stockton the following morning. Alex wasn't able to go as he had to work at the garage. "We've gotta get the work done before this afternoon. Clay's closing the garage early so the guys can visit with Otto." he explained. "You know I planned to go with you."

"It's all right, love. I'll have the two-way on me. I'll check in occasionally."

"I'd better hear from you when you get there, when you leave, and several times in between," he growled. "I trust you, and trust Otto, but I'll feel better when you're back safe."

Neither of them mentioned Zobelle and the threat he posed. It was always present in their minds, and Cat was always watchful when she was out on her own. "I"ll see ya when I see ya, love," she murmured as she kissed him goodbye.

"I meant what I said. You do _not_ want to suffer the consequences of non compliance," he replied, shutting the car door after she dutifully buckled the seat belt under his glare.

"Depends on the consequences, love!" she remarked cheekily, waving as she pulled out of the drive, the stereo blaring her favorite travel tunes. She flashed the blinkers a couple of times in farewell as the PT cruised down their street.

His fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose as he wondered if letting her go alone was such as good idea. 'Clay was adamant about no one taking time off today,' he thought. 'I hope she's not gonna be stubborn about checking in.' He mounted his bike and headed in the opposite direction she had taken.

Cat had originally considered taking the bike, but decided against it. She needed time to talk with Otto one on one and the bike wouldn't allow for that. There might not be an opportunity for them to get on a better comfort level once they were in Charming.

She checked in the rear view to make sure she wasn't being 'escorted' out of town and slid the irritating shoulder harness behind her back. The drive to Stockton went smoothly. She left a message for Alex when she reached the prison so he wouldn't worry. 'He doesn't often ask me to check in with him, no reason to keep him on pins and needles.' Before she went inside the guest entrance, she reattached the safety belt latch and slid the belt behind the headrest for the return trip.

Cat endured the bureaucratic red tape with as much patience as she could muster. Eventually, Otto was brought out and released to her. He had on street clothes and a SAMCRO cut.

"Remember Ms. Marshall, he has to be back in two days, by 8AM," the guard said as he took the release forms from her.

"Yes sir," she replied, resisting the urge to add a Nazi salute at his back. 'The guy is just another peed-on tryin' to do his job.' she reminded herself. The last thing she needed to do was stir up trouble.

"Hi, Otto," she greeted him quietly, taking his hand and placing it under her elbow along her forearm. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," he replied.

They moved towards the car, Cat occasionally murmuring warnings of steps and curbs.

"You've done this kind of thing before," Otto stated.

"Walking? Quite frequently. Sometimes I manage not to fall flat on my face," she replied.

"Funny," he replied with a wan smile. "I meant that you've worked with visually impaired people before."

"One of my college buds was blind. I learned how to provide passive assistance. We're at my car. You're standing in front of the door. It's a PT Cruiser and has the classic handle."

Otto reached out his right hand and felt the handle. She'd positioned them so that he was standing just to the left of the door. His fingers curled around the handle as his thumb pressed the little knob. The door opened and he felt his way into the passenger seat.

"Reach behind you with your right hand; the seat belt is there. Reach down to the left of the seat, and you'll find the latch." She watched as he fastened the seat belt, then closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

"Thank you." Otto said when he heard her door close.

She didn't have to ask what he meant. "You're welcome." She started the car, but he didn't hear the click of her own safety harness nor the reminder bell.

"Don't you wear your seat belt?"

"I have a problem with anything rubbing against my neck; the belt irritates a scar there. I just put it around the headrest and the buckle in the latch so the alarm doesn't annoy me."

"Tig lets you get away with that?"

'If you only knew!' She smiled at the question. "When he drives I tolerate the belt as a passenger. I don't drive much in town. He's always getting after me for not wearing the helmet in town and about my preference for goin' without the seat belt."

"You sound like a bit of a rebel," Otto replied. "And I'm not just referring to your accent. Why do you insist on being contrary?"

"I've always been that way. If someone said white, I'd say dark just to be different. If they said I couldn't do something, I'd do it just to prove 'em wrong."

"Nothing wrong with that. Guess that's what makes you the best foil for Tig. It takes a different kind of woman to handle him."

"So people say," She replied dryly. She pulled off to the side of the road and took the two-way out of her pocket. "No worries, just making a quick call, Otto."

"You two on the way back?" Otto could hear Trager's voice on the other end.

"Just left the parking lot. Everything went fine."

"Good!" His voice sounded relieved..

"Were you worried? We went through most of the red tape yesterday."

"I was concerned in case of any SNAFU," he replied.

"Well, everything went fine, and I behaved myself. It _is _possible for me to deal with bureaucrats and not get riled up, y'know!" Otto could hear the smile in her voice and knew she was teasing the rider.

"I know, babe. Drive safe. Are you wearing–"

She cut him off with an airy, "Don't ask, love, and you won't be disappointed. I'll call ya when we get to the house!" She turned off the phone and pulled back onto the highway.

"That wasn't very nice," Otto said.

She glanced at the former rider before turning her attention back to the road. "Tig worries about the wrong things. I don't take risks with the car or the bike, whether I wear safety gear or not."

"Be happy that he _can_ worry," Otto replied quietly.

"Believe me, it's not something I take for granted," she assured him. "Not to change the subject, Otto, but the club voted to allow me to take you on my bike in the escort. My bike's not a Harley, but they're ok with it."

"Is Tig ok with the idea of another man riding behind you?"

"He's the one who brought it to Clay and the club," she replied. "I thought about offerin' to test your skills and vision on my ride, and act as your guide passenger in the escort, cause I feel like you're not getting to do all that you should for LuAnn."

"It's not like I have much of a choice. I can't see more than three feet in front of my face! I appreciate your offer, but Tig would have a fit and both our hides if we tried!"

"At least you can see a bit, that's better than a lot of folks have given you credit for," Cat replied. "I respect your feelin's, but take a few minutes to think about it. Clay's had your ride taken out of storage and serviced."

"You're willing to put your bike at risk to help me?"

"It's insured. Does that mean you're goin' to consider the idea?"

"I don't know, Cat. For one, you would ride behind me, and Tig might not take that very well."

"Tig will just have to accept it, if you want to try. Just think on it. The worse that can happen is that we scrape some paint off the tank."

"Cat, wait! Dammit woman!" The phone went dead in his ear.

"Everything go ok?" Clay asked.

'Yeah, they're on their way back."

"Then what's wrong?"

He sighed in frustration, pinching his nose with one hand. "I asked if she was wearing her seat belt and she cut me off. She refuses to wear safety gear! Hell, she won't even wear a helmet around town! I think she does that just to annoy me!"

Clay had to fight his urge to laugh. Cat and Tig's ongoing safety gear battle was becoming legendary. She insisted on not wearing safety gear locally, and rarely wore the shoulder belt when she could get away with it. Tig made no secret of his dissatisfaction.

"Relax, Tig. She's a good rider and driver. She doesn't take chances. If a Mayan, Nord, or one of Zobelle's crew were to take out after her car or bike, I doubt a seat belt or helmet would make much of a difference."

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?" Tig snarled.

"It means that you save your worry for when it's really needed, pal! She's no kid and handles herself well. She's good with machinery – bikes and cars – and she's got a good mind. Look how she took care of that hospital clerk, and don't forget her quick thinking when Stahl confronted her."

Trager thought over his friend's words. "Clay's had been married a long time, and knows what he's talking about. Gemma can be a handful when she wants to be. But I can't help being concerned for Cat when she puts herself at risk.'

"There's something you oughta know about your lady," Clay added. "I've been putting this off cause it'd just piss you off, but you're entitled to know: she found additional evidence on the MCC thing. She took pictures of the lectern, proving that the shots that were fired came from _behind_ it. Thanks to her, things are looking better for us with the DA."

Tig's eyes widened in surprise. "She did that when we were in jail? Along with taking care of Chibs and Juice? _And_ dealing with the coffeehouse and our bail? Shit!"

Clay nodded. "She may be a woman, but she's no weak sister. I know she's important to you. I feel the same way about Gemma. But I don't worry about things I can't change and have no control over. It's something you need to learn."

Tig nodded in assent. There was a lot he could learn from Clay about marriage. "I hear ya, Clay. I hear ya." The two-way beeped for his attention. He played the message, saved it, then put the phone on loudspeaker so Clay could hear it.

"Sounds like someone got a similar speech," Clay observed. "Let's go check on Otto's bike."

Cat took Otto directly to the house. She wanted to give him a chance to learn the layout and get comfortable with it. She took him around the house, quietly explaining the placement of furniture and which room was which. Then she left him alone while she checked in at the store.

As she crossed the back yard, she pulled out the two-way and got Alex's voice mail. "Hey, love. We're at the house. Otto's getting used to the layout and I'm goin' to the store for a bit. By the way, sorry for givin' you a hard time earlier. I appreciate that you look out for my safety. Just don't want you worryin' unnecessarily."

When she returned to the house, she found Otto sitting in the recliner, a prisoner of the 20 pound cat, Ebony, who was purring contentedly.

"Oh, geeze! I'm sorry about that Otto! Want me to take him from you?"

"No, he's fine. He's a big cat."

"Proud of it, too. He's friendly, just don't pet him too long. He'll strike without warning."

"Thanks. For both the advice and for giving me some time alone. You don't get a lot of private time in prison."

"This isn't jail," Cat replied. "You're our guest. We – Tig and I – want you to be comfortable."

"So when are we expected at the club?"

"Not any particular time. I left things open with them, that we'd be out when you felt ready."

"I've been thinking over your offer, and it's very nice of you to make it. I'm going to pass on it."

Cat exhaled in disapppointment. "I'm sorry to hear that. I think you could pull it off, if that makes any difference."

"It doesn't. I appreciate the vote of support, Cat. But I have to be realistic. Unless my right eye gets stronger, my solo riding days are over."

"The offer's still on the table if you change your mind," she replied. She couldn't fault the man for thinking the whole thing through. She'd felt she had to make the offer. "Before we head to the club, would you like to check out the club's latest business partnership, _Charming Pawse_?

"Lead the way, Lady Cat. I've not had a decent cup of joe in some time."

She led him through the back yard and on to the back entrance of the store, describing where the cat run was located, as well as the various bits of lawn furniture. "Tig smokes out here. He says he likes having a quiet place to think and have a smoke; he won't let me put smokeless ashtrays in the house."

As they entered the back of the coffeehouse, she described the area where the roasting and baking took place, and the office area. Next, they entered the coffeehouse proper, where she introduced Otto to JR and Adrian. She then described the book area, the lounge and the cat room.

"The seating consists of overstuffed chairs and love seats spread about. There are a few end tables as well and a computer area. The idea is to make the customer want to sit back and relax with a brew and a book – or whatever one wants to do here that isn't illegal or immoral."

"I see," Otto mused. "The town is named Charming, and your shop invites people to pause out of their day, adding in the cats for their amusement. I'll bet that's the reason you named the place '_Charming P-a-w-s-e_'."

"You're the first person to mention that, Otto!" she remarked. "I've never told anyone how the store got it's name."

"I'm observant," he replied with a small but genuine smile.

"I've noticed. So, what would you like? Regular coffee? Espresso? A cappuccino?"

He mulled it over for a moment. He'd had his fill of the tepid shit that passed for coffee in stir. He had two days to enjoy the many beverages

the place had to offer, why not start off basic and move up?

"Regular coffee, please, with cream."

She brought a mug of fresh steaming coffee and the creamer pot to him. "I've left room at the top, as most people prefer adding their own cream."

He held out his hand, expecting to receive a couple of small plastic cups, only to feel a cool aluminum pot with beads of moisture along its' outside. He poured some cream into the coffee, stirred the brew and took an appreciative sip. "Wow! Quality stuff!"

"Job one around here, my friend. We don't cut corners. Though this is the only coffeehouse in town, I keep things at a high quality and do different things to keep customers coming back."

Otto nodded thoughtfully. "And you said the club has a stake in this place?"

"Thirty percent off the top. They had no start up costs. I know it's not going to replace the income from Caracara, but this is a legitimate business and the club gets operating money."

"What do _you _get out of it?"

"A lot of satisfaction from being able to stick it to Agent Stahl, and the club watches out for our safety."

"So she came after you, too?"

"She came after all the SAMCRO women, I was the only one who didn't have a rap sheet she could use. She wasn't very happy that I wouldn't play her way. She tried to use Tig's record to split us up, so I showed her the door. Tig and Clay were listening on the phone the whole time."

"LuAnn mentioned that Stahl was bothering the women. She also said you were a real nice pain in the ass in arranging the blood drive for Juice and Chibs!" he grinned.

"I'm sure she did, with emphasis on the word pain!" Cat laughed. "But it got Juice more time in the hospital away from the SJCCF, and certainly didn't hurt Caracara."

"That's what I told her when she complained about it to me. I reminded her that community involvement can go a long way in the long run. She forgets – forgot -- that at times."

Cat leaned forward and placed an understanding hand on Otto's arm. "It's hard to think of her in the past tense, brother. It takes time, trust me."

"Like you'd know!" he replied waspishly.

"That's easy for you to say, friend. But I know _exactly_ how it feels," she replied quietly.

A few tense moments of silence passed between them. 'Damn! She didn't deserve that. I'm just not up to hearing well-meant sympathetic shit right now.' He felt like a heel for snapping at her. 'I don't think she's not just uttering polite words and phrases, I hear real pain in her voice.' He shook his head. "I apologize, Lady Cat. You don't deserve to be my emotional garbage dump. You've been nothing but decent to me, and that's no way to treat you."

"No worries, Otto. I _was_ once where you are now, and it hurts like Hell. You feel like the bottom has dropped out of your life, and you wonder what in the Hell is left to live for." she replied quietly.

His body jerked in sudden understanding. "You really _have_ been where I am now! Do you mind if I ask how did it happen?"

"A random act of violence. Bill's killer has never been found, and is likely never going to pay for his crime. Bill was my life; he saw me then for what I was inside. Not for my looks – which weren't the greatest back then – he was my best friend and my lover. When he died, it felt like Life as I knew it was over, and when our house was burglarized on the day of his funeral, I was led to move here."

"What'd you do, fling a dart at a map?" It was meant as a joke.

"Guess it's a damn good thing the dart didn't land in the ocean. Mighty hard to set up shop and housekeeping on the water."

"No shit?"

"No shit. I spread out a map, closed my eyes and led the dart fly. When it landed, the nose was right in the center of Charming."

Otto pondered the possibilities of such a thing. Serendipity? Whatever it was that led her to Charming obviously knew what they or it was doing. She seemed to be thriving.

"The hardest part isn't the first night, or the second night. It's _all _the days and nights afterward. It's the expectations people put on you a few weeks and months later. You're right about one thing, your situation and mine differ. After the burial, you have to go back to prison. I didn't. Althought there are all kinds of prisons a person can land in. Not all of 'em have bars on the windows."

"But you still had to learn how to cope with the loss, and that's difficult no matter where you are. I appreciate you sharing this with me, it must've been painful to revisit."

She smiled faintly. "It wasn't that bad, Otto. There's something that Bill wrote to me, many years before we married. The card read: '_Someday, sometime, in another world (on NBC __weekdays at 2pm), you'll look back on all this __and laugh. . .waiting will be the hardest part_'."

Otto mulled that over for a moment, then laughed a little. "He was a wise and funny man. Do you still wait?"

"Daily," she replied.

"You love him."

"Yes, and I still miss him. Tig accepts that will always be a part of me. The love I had for Bill never died. I know Bill wanted me to go on with Life. Now, Tig has his own place in my heart and soul. I consider myself pretty lucky in that respect."

A more companionable silence followed while Otto finished his coffee. As he handed his empty cup back to her he said, "You've got a good heart, Cat."

She was touched and a bit embarrassed. She offered to get Otto a refill, but he declined. "Why don't we go on out to the clubhouse, before Tig sends out a search party for us?"

She led him back the way they came, stopping long enough to leave his cup in the sink and return the creamer pot to the fridge. She left Otto with the bike while she retrieved her helmet and a spare from the closet.

Otto leaned against the rice burner, awaiting her return. He was impressed with the coffeehouse but more impressed with Tig's lady. 'She's smart, decent, and caring. Much too decent for someone like Tig. She's his exact opposite. Maybe that's what made him choose her - out of all women - to settle with. Tig can be a cold and ruthless asshole. Deep down, a man needs something good in Life to hold on to. Cat seems to be that anchor for him. She's got a lot of fire and isn't afraid to stand up to him.'

Cat returned from the house with both helmets on her arm. She locked the door and walked up to Otto. "Before we go to the club, would you like to go by the funeral home, to have some private time with LuAnn?"

He nodded. "If you don't mind taking me, I'd like that."

"I wouldn't have offered it I minded, dude," she replied. "Just let me update Tig." She turned on the two-way and got his voice mail. "Hey, love, we're leaving the coffeehouse, but we're not headin' over there yet. Takin' Otto to the funeral home to visit his lady. I'll have the phone on."

She placed the spare helmet in Otto's hands. "It's an older kind that's open face but covers the ears. That's why I don't like it. The buckets the guys wear are good for hearing, but I don't like they way they look. Got a full face for me that's been modified. It's not perfect, but it works."

She donned her own helmet, and mounted her bike. She held it steady so that Otto could straddle the seat. When he placed a hand on her shoulder in order to mount, the top of his hand brushed against her helmet. He didn't make mention of it, except to smile. As he settled in, Cat mentally steeled herself to have another man's hands around her waist.

"I can lean against the trunk and hold the sides," Otto assured her. "If you're like me, having someone's arms around you on the bike can be disconcerting. Besides, I don't want to get on Tig's bad side."

Cat turned her head sideways to glance at Otto. "Was I _that _obvious?"

He held his thumb and forefinger out, pinched together. "Just a bit. Shall we ride?"

She started the bike and they rode from the house. It was the first time in ages that Otto had been on a bike, and he enjoyed the feeling.

Cat and Otto walked through the funeral home entrance, the darkness of the building a definite change from the sunshine outside. A bell had gone off at their entrance, so they knew someone would be with them. She led Otto out of the doorway to one side where they could wait for assistance but not block the door.

The funeral director walked out to meet them, and Cat made the introduction. "He's not been able to see his wife since her death, and we wondered if it'd be possible for him to say a private farewell," she explained.

The funeral director nodded, then caught Cat's glare and her non verbal indication that Otto couldn't see his head bob. "Of course, Ma'am. If you two will come this way?"

Otto took her arm again, and they followed the funeral director to one of the parlors. At the far end lay a brown casket with the lid raised. Floor lamps cast a soft pink glow over the area, and torch lights above added to the illumination.

They walked down the center aisle, but Cat stopped at the end. "Otto, the casket is directly in front of you, the lid is raised. I'm gonna step out and give you some privacy with your wife. Just call out and I'll come back for you when you're ready."

He nodded and moved quietly forward. Cat turned away and stepped into the outer lounge area, closing the door behind her.

The two-way chirped for her attention. "Hey!"

"Hey back. You OK?"

"Sure. It's just a funeral parlor. Otto's with her now; I'm waitin' in the lounge."

Alex breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried that you might be having flashbacks or nerves or something. Want me to come over?"

"That's sweet, love, but I'm OK. We'll be on our way once he's done," she assured him. "I'll call and let you know when we're en route."

"Good. Be safe, babe."

"See ya when I see ya, love."

Otto listened as Cat moved almost soundlessly back to the entrance before he walked to the casket holding his wife's remains. 'The more I'm around her, the more I understand why Tig chose her. I just don't understand why _she_ chose him!'

He stopped when his questing hand felt the smooth, polished wood in front of him. He felt his way along to the opening, sliding his hand forward until he felt LuAnn's face. Her skin was cold to the touch; he'd expected that. He couldn't see her very well, so he had no idea if the cosmetician had been able to cover her injuries. 'Won't matter. She always said she'd prefer a closed casket service anyway,' he reminded himself.

His mind's eye pictured the many times he'd seen her sleeping, as people always claimed the deceased looked asleep. Why people would say that when it wasn't true was beyond his ability to understand. 'Maybe it's the closest we can come to accepting the idea of Death, by comparing it to sleep. Not a very good comparison.'

His hand brushed against LuAnn's cheek in a caress. "Ah, darlin'. Who did this to you?

Was it Georgie? Whoever it was, the club will find whoever did it and make them pay for hurting you." He wasn't aware he'd spoken. His comments had been whispered, but his voice seemed to roar in the empty room.

He kept his hand against LuAnn's cheek for some time, silent tears streaming down his face. He thought he'd cried himself out when he got the news days ago. Apparently that wasn't the case.

He allowed himself the luxury of crying his heart out. There was no one around to witness it, and even if Cat could hear him, he knew she wouldn't tell anyone. The tears finally dried up, leaving him weary. "Good bye, darlin' LuAnn," he whispered, bending down to touch his lips to her cold ones. Then he turned and slowly walked up the center aisle to the door.

* * *

It was just after noon when Cat and Otto arrived at the garage and club. Tig was watching for them, and motioned for her to park next to his bike. She allowed Otto to dismount and then backed her bike into the space Tig indicated.

She removed her helmet and fluffed out her hair. The helmet always plastered her hair to her head, one of the other reasons she didn't like wearing it on short trips. But if wearing it more often made Alex worry less, she'd endure the minor discomfort.

He gave her a quizzical glance as he accepted the spare helmet from Otto. "It only seemed fair to wear mine if my passenger was wearin' one," she explained, trying to appear non chalant.

He winked at her as he handed over the helmet, letting her know he wasn't fooled. She placed the spare helmet in the trunk and then attached hers to the holder built onto the side of her bike.

The rest of the club had crowded around Otto to greet him. Many hadn't seen him since he'd gone to prison. Given the circumstances, their greetings were more subdued than usual.

'So what do y'all have planned for him?" Cat asked. She knew there wasn't going to be a big bash like Bobby's homecoming, but she was sure the guys wanted to do something to celebrate Otto's furlough.

"Not a lot. Just hang out. We're having dinner here tonight. Potluck. Us, Charters, nomads, and the gals from Caracara."

Cat winced. "Lord, I hope this one goes better than the last one."

Alex laughed and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to him. "Same here, babe! I don't think anyone's going to fight or announce a murder this time."

The riders ushered Otto into the clubhouse, leaving them alone for a moment. "Guess I'll have to go to the store. The police department still has custody of my cake pan," she turned in Alex's arms to face him. "By the way, I don't think Otto is going to be very comfortable on the sofa. He's a little longer than it is."

"I was thinking that myself," he replied, not aware that he was being set up for some teasing. "But after sleeping on a prison mattress, the sofa would feel like a cloud to him. Course, he could stay overnight at the clubhouse."

"And have Stahl breathing fire down our collective necks? No way! Seems to me that the best solution is to let you two men take the bed, and I'll camp out on the sofa."

Tig glared angrily at that idea, his brows knitted in fury. 'What in Hell is she thinking? The bed is _our_ territory! No way am I going to share our bed with another man!'

Cat's grin immediately gave her away. Tig knew that behind her sunglasses, her eyes were twinkling with merriment at his momentary distress.

"Damn you!" he growled, his hands moving up from her shoulder to grasp the back of her neck. "Sometimes when you pull that shit, I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you!"

She peered over the top of her sunglasses at him, her eyes reflecting her lack of fear and amusement. "If you were gonna kill me, love, you'd have done it a long time ago. So you might as well kiss me. You know you've been wanting to since I got here."

He bent his mouth down to hers, kissing her long and hard in response to her dare. "You certainly enjoy living dangerously, don't you?" he whispered against her ear. Then his lips moved down along her neck, making her weak in the knees. "Now, what are you intending to do about the sleeping arrangements?"

She squirmed under his expert ministrations. His lips, tongue, and mustache were working their magic, and his beard was tickling her. "You don't fight fair!" She shrieked.

"All's fair, and I like to win," he murmured against her neck. "Talk, woman!"

"I intend to pick up one of those self inflating air mattresses and set it up in the library!" she gasped.

"That's more acceptible," he replied, moving his mouth back to hers. She could tell by his satisfied smirk that she'd lost this particular battle of wits. She didn't mind it one bit.

"Hey, you two, we have rooms for that shit!" Clay hollered at them from the door of the clubhouse. "Get your asses in here or I'll start selling tickets!"

"Spoilsport!" Cat muttered.

"The patch doesn't read 'President' for nothing," he replied as he walked her to the clubhouse, oblivious to Clay's glower.

"Newlyweds!" Clay sputtered, glaring at them as they passed.

* * *

Otto decided against a viewing. Everyone agreed that they wanted to remember LuAnn as she'd lived, and not see the shell in the casket. Gemma explained to Otto that she had selected some photos of her friend to display during the service at the funeral home.

Cat felt uncomfortable about being a part of the planning. 'Hell, I wasn't that friendly with LuAnn. This is none of my beeswax! I don't know why Tig asked me to sit in.'

"Sit," Tig ordered when she rose to find something – anything – else to do. "I have a good reason for you sitting in."

"Then maybe you should share it with the rest of us, so the lady won't be so uncomfortable," Otto replied.

"Cat set up a medical fund for the club, to cover what insurance won't. It took a hit when Chibs and Juice got hurt. I thought you might consider memorial donations to it. Cat won't ask. I don't have that problem."

"It's really not a big deal," she murmured, embarassed that her man was asking Otto to help replenish the coffers. 'Trust him to have the balls!' she mused.

"It's a big deal to us," Gemma stated. "We needed something like that, and you made it possible. Otto needs to know what his options are where memorial donations are concerned."

"LuAnn didn't have charities that interested her," Otto replied, catching on to Cat's discomfort. "She always said not to cover her casket in flowers, she'd not be able to enjoy them when she was dead. I think having donations made to the club's medical fund is a good idea. She'd like that."

When contacted, the funeral home indicated there would be no problem in making donation envelopes available for the medical fund. Cat provided the bank location to the funeral director, and then called the bank to prepare them for the deposit to come.

Cat took her leave of the Alex and the clubhouse shortly after the planning session ended. She had several errands to run before the dinner that evening. Otto decided to stay at the clubhouse. "I'll be fine here, Cat," he assured her. "This will give me time to catch up on club business. If I need anything, I'll have Tig give you a call."

"That sounds like a plan. I know the guys will enjoy bein' with you without a female in the way," she replied. "I'll see y'all later."

Alex walked her out to the bike. "How long do you think you'll be?"

"Can't say for sure, love. Got a few things on my to-do list, plus stop in at the coffeehouse to make sure things are OK. I'll definitely be back in time for the dinner."

Her personal cell phone let loose with '_Past the Point of No Return_' in Gerard Butler's voice. "Pardon me." She reached into her pocket and looked at the caller ID. It was Tara. "Hey, what's up doc?"

Alex winced at the pun.

"Are you back in town, Cat?" Tara had heard that line so many times that it hardly bothered her.

"Yeah, I'm at the clubhouse. Why?"

"Are you alone?"

Cat frowned in consternation. Tara didn't usually beat around the bush like this. "No, but I can still listen."

"I don't want the club to know about this yet. Are you _sure _you can talk?"

Cat was getting exasperated. "Would you rather I come out there?"

Tara sighed then continued, "Chibs had a set back today. Margaret Murphy, the hospital administrator, told him he was being transferred to Stockton General because he couldn't pay for continued care. He freaked out and faked symptoms. Dr. Gallagher felt it best to put his status back to critical condition."

"Huh. The cell never rang, and if he'd called the coffeehouse, they would've called me," she replied, unable to understand why Chibs wouldn't have called her before reacting. "Wait a minute, why was _she _talkin' to him about his ability to pay when it's already taken care of? He knew that!" Alex was getting concerned over her end of the conversation, but she waved him off, concentrating on Tara.

"She doesn't like the club and my involvement in it. She went out of her way to upset Chibs to get back at me."

"Do you need me to talk some sense into the bitch?"

"No, it'd do more harm than good. Gemma tried that and Martha filed a complaint on me. I had the accounting department talk to her about the financial set-up for Chibs." There was silence on the doctor's end, then she added, "Chibs probably freaked and didn't call you because I mentioned the same thing to him a couple of days ago. That's how I found out about the account."

"Well, nothin' we can do now. At least he's stayin' put until he's released," Cat replied. "I appreciate you lettin' me know. I'm gonna have to fill in Tig; he's right beside me and chompin' at the bit."

"Sorry, Cat. Please don't let him say anything to the club. I'll fill in Clay tonight."

"It's not your fault. I hold that tight ass bitch responsible. I'll see ya later."

"What was _that_ all about?" Alex inquired.

"There was a FUBAR where Chibs alternative payment was concerned. That idiot hospital administrator assumed he didn't have any and was gonna move him to another hospital. It's taken care of, but it scared the Hell out of Chibs, and he's back on the critical list. What _is_ it about hospitals in this state about not checkin' into alternative payment?"

"Dunno, baby," Alex didn't want to go down _that_ particular road again. Cat was riled up enough. "Should we advise Clay?"

She shook her head. "No, Tara handled it. She'll talk to Clay later."

"OK. As long as Chibs is safe."

"He is, love. Just let me see that bitch cross my path; she'll find out what bad luck is really like!"

Alex hugged her, partly out of comfort, mostly to settle her temper. "Don't go riding out on the warpath like you did that other hospital, baby. Give things time to cool down."

She glared up at him. "If I didn't have so damn much to do today, I'd certainly pay her a visit! If she tries the same thing with Juice, the gloves _will _come off!"

Alex laughed and kissed her goodbye. "I pity that gash!" he said, swatting her on the butt before heading back to the clubhouse. "I'll see you later."

Cat's first stop was the coffeehouse. She'd heard that the newest charter, the former Devil's Tribe, had arrived in town. She wanted to make sure the store had plenty of her new flavor available.

She opted to park the bike in front of the store and was surprised to see a line of strange bikes at the curb. 'Lord, I hope that's not a bunch of Nords or Mayans!' she thought, patting her back where her gun was stored.

She knew her staff would have warned her if a rival gang had entered the place, but Tig had taught her to be prepared. She had the two-way ready in case she needed to call for help. She glanced at the license plates on the bikes and relaxed. Nevada plates. She walked into her shop to find Sons of Anarchy cuts, with the banner at the bottom reading 'Nevada'.

"Howdy, guys! I'm Cat Marshall, the owner. Which one of you is Jury?"

A tall man with silver hair and blue eyes rose to greet her. "You're Tig's old lady, right?"

She nodded. "Welcome to Charming, gentlemen. Sorry it has to be under such sad circumstances."

"Likewise, Miss Cat. You've got a nice place here, and this whiskey flavored coffee really hits the spot!"

She grinned at the ringing endorsement. "Glad y'all like it. Inspired by SOA."

"How's Big Otto?"

"Unhappy. Will y'all be at the potluck tonight?"

"Yeah. Hope Gemma doesn't mind if we bring take-out."

"The guys won't care, as long as it's edible," she replied. "There's a grocer with a great deli just down the block. All y'all can find some decent stuff there. Tell 'im I sent you, and he'll treat y'all right."

She paid for two pounds each of the Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort blends to take to the potluck and spoke briefly with JR and Adrian. Then she went into the back to check in with Miss Anna, who was working on the pastries for the next day.

"Everything OK, Anna?"

"Never better, Miss Cat. The Sons are keeping us busy; we've made three pots of the Jack Daniels blend since the Nevada guys got in."

"How's the supply?"

"We're good. Plenty of both blends roasted and bagged. I thought we'd get a head start on baking for tomorrow. These riders really have big appetites!"

"Yes, they do," Cat replied with a grin. "Be sure to set aside a few Snicker Bar Muffins for Tig, please."

"Sure thing, Miss Cat."

She rode her bike around the block to the house and put the bag of coffee in the PT's hatch. She then went out to get her shopping done, locating a self-inflating air mattress for Otto and then several pies at a local bakery. The baker stocked several varieties of sugar free pies and she stocked up in case there were others who needed sugar free besides her.

She returned to the house with her purchases, and worked on cleaning and polishing her bike for the following day, which helped her work off her anger at the hospital administrator. 'If I hadn't promised Alex, I'd be workin' my anger off on her!' By the time she was through, the paint and chrome shone and the leather gleamed as it the Yamaha had just come off the showroom floor.

The air mattress didn't take long to set up. She made it more comfortable for Otto by making it up with sheets, a blanket, and a couple of pillows. A radio was added so he could listen to music if he wished.

She was dirty and even sweating by the time she'd finished the bike and bed endeavors, so she decided to shower and change before returning to the clubhouse. Instead of wearing boots with her jeans, she opted for sneaks and a short sleeved shirt under her usual long sleeved one. As she was tying her sneaks, the two-way chimed. "Hey!"

"Hey back. You lost?"

She smiled at the growl coming from the other end of the line. "Just leavin' the house, love. I got busy and lost track. Plus, it's damn difficult puttin' a bandage on one's own paw."

"Hmpf. You riding or driving?"

"I'll have the PT. All the pies won't carry well on the bike," she replied

"Then you'll want to park along the garage with Gemma and Tara's cars," he explained.

"OK. I'll be there in a few."

She could see why Alex advised her where to park, as there were quite a number of bikes lined up along the far wall. She found a spot along the garage between Gemma's Escalade and Tara's Olds, backing in so the hatch was to the wall.

"Hey, baby. Need a little help?" Alex was leaning against the wall, smoking and watching for her.

"Hey back, love. It's just a few bags. I can manage."

He detached himself from the wall, moving forward to give her a welcome back hug and kiss. "Hope you brought more coffee. We're almost out."

"I did. The charters really like the whiskey blend. I hope four pounds is enough."

"It'll get us through tonight."

She rewarded him with 'the look'. "The coffeehouse _will_ be open in the mornin'."

He reached around and grabbed the bags of pies and coffee in one hand while reaching up to close the hatch with the other. Then he put his arm around her. "C'mon, babe." He felt her tense as they neared the clubhouse. He knew what was bothering her. "Relax. No feuds will break out tonight."

"You sure? Opie's probably not forgotten my tearin' into him the last time."

"It's gonna be OK. No one wants to make this any harder for Otto."

"I hope you're right."

Except for an intense glare, Opie didn't come near nor speak to her. 'It's as if we never talked like friends,' she thought, not enjoying the tension between them, and not knowing how to bridge the gap.

"Give it time, babe," Alex murmured, sensing her thoughts.

The potluck dinner, though subdued, definitely went far more smoothly than the last one. None of the Sons were fighting, the children were kept occupied with a video on the television, and no cops came along to announce bad news.

There was a good spread for the potluck. Some brought store bought items, such as Cat's sugar free and sugar loaded pies. Several of the men were capable cooks, including Bobby Elvis. His contribution was a variety of goodies he'd baked himself, including a sugar free confection he made especially for Cat.

"You're a man of many talents, Bobby!" she exclaimed as she rewarded him with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Jack of all trades, master of none," he replied, somewhat dazed but pleased by her spontaneous reaction to his offering.

"Don't sell yourself so short. Financial genuis, singer, baker – you're OK in my book – now."

He winced at her subtle reminder of the injury and subsequent trouble his Fat Boy had caused Tig. Bobby knew Cat had been pretty 'hissed off' at him for awhile. "I'm glad to be back on your good side, darlin'. Those claws of yours can be sharp."

Neither of them noticed a tall, skinny blonde girl dressed in an outfit that clung to every curve that wasn't peeking out of the fabric watching them. She glared intently at Cat, watching her interact with the various club members, most especially with Tig. Two friends lounged next to her, and they whispered to each other at frequent intervals, their eyes never leaving Cat.

"Everything OK here?" Tig asked as he came up to the pair. He'd noticed the conversation between her and Bobby. He wanted to be sure Cat was playing nice.

"It's all good," they replied in unison.

"Your old lady's forgiven me for the Fat Boy thing," Bobby added.

"So long as there's no repeat," Cat warned him.

"I promise!"

"C'mon, woman," Tig replied, taking pity on Bobby and deciding to 'rescue' him. "Time to pay some attention to me!" He slid his arm around her waist and led her away, casting an amused glance at Bobby over his shoulder.

The huddled trio glared daggers at Cat's back, noting the hold Tig had on her. No one was paying attention to the trio, despite their revealing attire. That made them upset.

"You OK?" Alex asked as they walked to a far corner.

"Yeah. Where's Otto?"

"He's in the chapel with Clay. Looks like you and Otto faired OK without me this morning."

She squeezed his waist. "No problem, love. We talked some during the ride and again at the coffeehouse."

Alex grinned at her. "Appears he gave you some insights into safety gear."

"Let's say I'm giving it all the due consideration it merits," she replied. "Did you just come up to rescue Bobby from me, or were you missin' me?"

"A little of both," he grinned. "Some of the guys are getting up a basketball game. Usually pick up games don't require a referee, but the guys insisted so I thought you'd be interested."

"Sure!"

"This I gotta see."

She stopped and gave him the 'look'.

"What?"

"That's what I want to know. What'cha mean 'this you gotta see'?"

"Well, it's been a few years since you played, and I've never seen you play. I'm interested, that's all," he replied, but he looked much too innocent for her taste.

"Yeah, right!" She marched ahead of him and approached the area where an ancient backboard and net were located. Jax, Happy, Prospect, and a couple of nomads were waiting with a group of the charter riders. A basketball lay on the ground between the groups. "Hey, guys. I understand you're lookin' for a ref."

Alex moved along the side lines, watching and waiting, a sly smile on his face. The charter players hooted at the newcomer.

"_This _is your idea of a ref?" shouted one.

"She's old, short, and a woman!" called out another.

Cat rolled her eyes. 'Men!' she thought. She gestured for the ball, which Happy tossed and she easily caught, twirling it around her waist and then in a figure eight around her legs. When she straightened up, she sighted and let fly with a perfect jumper, right through the net.

Happy retrieved the ball and tossed it back to Cat, who caught it, and started spinning it on one finger. The charter riders, though impressed with her show, remained unconvinced. "OK, Kip, guard me. And don't hold back."

Prospect glanced over his shoulder at Tig, who shrugged, still smiling slyly. "You heard the lady, Sack. Just watch where you put your hands."

Cat rolled her eyes again, then walked to the mid court line, passed the ball to Prospect and said, "Check!" He passed it back to her and assumed a guard stance.

Cat started dribbling the ball, standing in one place but watching Prospect's body. The hecklers and several people on the sideline, including Tig, watched with interest.

"What's going on?" Clay asked as he stopped next to Tig, Otto standing next to him. The three actresses had followed Tig and Cat outside, and were leaning against a picnic table, trying to entice the guys. The guys were more interested in the court action and ignored them, making them pout.

"School's in. Cat's teaching. This is gonna be good."

She continued to dribble the ball, watching Prospect's body, not his eyes, to determine which direction he would move. As she expected, his body telegraphed his move, and when he moved left, she shot faked that way, making him move further in that direction.

Cat took advantage of the fake and Prospect's momentary lack of balance to drive to the right and on to the basket for a perfect lay up.

She caught the ball under the basket, turned and glared at the charter hecklers. The ball rested against her hip. "Any more comments from the peanut gallery?"

None of the men rose to her challenge. The trio said something sarcastic and cutting but no one heard them.

"That's what I thought. Now, let's play some basketball, and all hardware stays on the sidelines! Tig, would you do the honors?"

She'd seen a blonde haired woman in tight clothes sidle up next to Tig while she was on the court. The girl was literally oozing all over her man. Tig quickly disengaged himself from the girl and walked onto the court, collecting all the knives and guns. His expression warned the men not to argue with him.

Arms full of hardware, he sauntered back to the sidelines and piled the weaponry on the picnic table. "Make yourselves useful and watch these," he ordered, glaring at the blonde actress who'd followed him. Then he turned and walked back to Clay and Otto, his attention focused on what was happening on the court.

The teams formed a circle for the tip off, the Redwood Originals going without shirts. Cat held the ball in one hand between the two jumpers and tossed it into the air. The game was underway!

Being a half court game, all she had to do was watch for flagrant fouls, travels, double dribbles, and lane violations. She called things as fairly as she saw them.

Half Sack went for a rebound and came down on his feet in obvious pain, his hands cradling the implant.

"Time!" Cat hollered. "Time out! Injury on the court!"

Half Sack limped to the sideline, his face contorted with pain. He was met with hoots and catcalls.

"Anyone making a nutcracker joke gets to run a lap around the entire block, whether he's in boots or not," she growled, glaring at the group of smirking men, including her own.

"Why are you glaring at _me_?" Alex asked when she focused 'the look' on him.

"Because you're eggin' them on! Kip, go put some ice on it, you over extended yourself."

The men all shook with suppressed laughter, as Cat had innocently added fuel to their fun at Sack's expense. She glared at them in disgust. "Bunch of overgrown little boys, the whole lot of ya!"

"What are we gonna do about the game, Cat?" Jax asked, trying but failing to keep a straight face. The Redwood Originals were ahead, 20-15, and game was 21.

She looked at the charter team; it was obvious they weren't willing to forfeit the game. "We can't play with only four guys!" the VP continued, beginning to look worried.

"You can with four guys and me," Cat replied.

She turned to the audience on the sidelines and called a challenge to them. "Hey! Any of you old farts think you can call a foul or lane violation when you see it?"

The 'old farts' in question looked from her to themselves. "Who you callin' an old fart?" Tig snarled.

"Don't see you doin' anything to prove me wrong," she called out in the same challenging tone. She grinned a dare at him.

He removed the knife sheath from his belt and removed his cut. "You think I can't?"

"Guess we'll see, won't we?" Cat replied as she started to remove her long sleeved shirt.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!" Tig called out, running up to her and grabbing her hands. "What in Hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm playin' on the skins' side!"

"Like Hell! You play for the shirts," he replied, removing his and tossing it to one of the charters. "You," he pointed to the player who'd caught his shirt, "ref. You," he glared at her but his eyes were twinkling, "play for the charters. _I'll_ play for the Redwood team."

An assortment of cat calls met his announcement from the sidelines, along with boos that he'd interrupted the almost free show they thought they were getting. The actresses smirked, rolling their eyes and making gagging motions.

Cat grinned at Alex and lifted her long sleeved shirt anyway to reveal the other, short sleeved shirt underneath tucked in her jeans. She tossed the long sleeved shirt to the sidelines.

"Bring it on, old man!" she added definantly. "If you think flexing your chest is gonna distract me, you got another think comin'!" She turned away from him and gestured to the opposing team. "Charters! Huddle up!"

The four charters surrounded her and she quickly outlined her strategy. "Ok, y'all know I can play and that I'm Tig's old lady. They've been playin' man to man and will put Tig on me thinkin' he'll be a distraction. We're gonna use that to our advantage. They need his height at center, I played forward/guard. I'll make the inbounds pass. Tig'll be expectin' an overhead pass. Be ready, cause whoever is clear is gonna get a bounce pass."

"You can handle a ball ok, but Tig's pretty competitive," her original heckler replied.

"So am I, darlin'. We're down by five, and they're at game point. That's the kinds of odds I like. Are you in?" She placed her hand out in front of her, palm down.

The charters looked at each other. If this 'old lady' thought they could win, then Hell, yes! They were in. The charters placed their hands on hers. "On the count of three, charters, ok?"

"Hey, is this a game or a prayer circle?" Tig called out. "Like prayer's gonna help, anyway! C'mon, let's go!"

"Keep yer pants on, stud!" she called out, earning a laugh from the sidelines. The team pumped their combined hands up and down three times and cried "Charters!"

As she expected, Tig was put in as center for the Redwood Originals, while Cat assumed her old familiar post as guard and forward. Happy was moved from center to guard which would have put him guarding the inbounds pass, had the Redwood team been playing a zone defense.

Just as she anticipated, Tig waved a finger at her and tapped Happy on the shoulder. "Since we're playing man to man, this is my 'man'," he announced, pumping his thumb behind his shoulder in a gesture that told Happy to take his place.

"OK, you wanna play it that way," she snorted, holding the ball to her side and crouching over it. "Charters!" she yelled, "fan out!"

"Going for the overhead?" her man snickered. "I don't think you can get the ball over me, babe, but you're welcome to try."

"Hmpf!" She ignored the sight of the wonderfully formed, fuzzy expanse of chest in front of her to concentrate on the movements of her team. They were fanning out, but the Redwood team was playing close defense, which made getting clear that much harder.

"You're running out of time, babe," Tig reminded her, somewhat needlessly. He was enjoying himself and caught up in the competition.

She caught movement to her right, saw that one of the charters was open. She moved the ball over her head and jumped. That made Tig jump as well, anticipating blocking the pass. At the last second, she threw a bounce pass under Tig's upraised arm, successfully getting the ball in play.

"Yes!" She cried in triumph, running under his arm onto the court, watching for an opening and moving to try to get open.

One of the charters had a clear shot, jumped and shot the ball. Cat leapt for the rebound, only to run smack into the solid chest of her man, who was guarding a little too close!

"Hey! Watch it!"

"I think that was a charge," Tig replied.

"Bull, your feet weren't planted. That was a block!"

They glared in unison at the ref, but he shrugged his shoulders. "Ball bounced off Redwood out of bounds. No foul. Charters inbound."

"Shit!" Cat and Tig replied in the same breath.

She went back under the basket, knowing Tig wouldn't fall for a feint a second time. She might be able to use the out of bounds area to her advantage. Until the ball was in play, she could move without dribbling, but only had five seconds to get the ball inbounds or turn it over.

One of the Charters made a move as if to make the inbounds pass, but she shook her head. She moved from one side of the out of bounds to the other, but Tig kept pace, despite his heavy boots.

"Damn! Something's gotta give!" she thought to herself. Then she had an idea, and chest pumped the ball, right into Tig's boot. It bounced off and scooted across the court, right into the hands of one of the Charters, who let loose with another jump shot. This time the shot was good, and the lead was cut to three. "Good move, Cat!" the young rider called, giving her the thumbs up.

"It only takes one point to win, watch these guys!"

The Charters were playing a zone defense, so she didn't have to guard Tig. She was able to keep an eye on her area, and fought as hard as the rest of them for the rebound when Jax missed a shot. She pulled it down and dribbled to the center court to move the ball in play. Tig was taking 'man to man' quite seriously, and was doing what he could to block her from getting to the basket.

She had her back to him as she dribbled, protecting the ball from his reach and trying to get around him, sometimes backing directly into him to make progress to the basket. He kept his hand solidly on her butt, the other reaching around to get the ball. He kept his body between her and the ref so he couldn't see the flagrant foul.

She stopped dribbling, pivoting around to see who was open. She tried another shot fake, but he was on to that and didn't follow the move. She glanced to the left and his eyes followed. His position shifted the same way which was enough to allow her to take sight and let off a long shot, which sank through the basket.

The score was tied, as her shot qualified as a three pointer. It was still game point for Redwood, but they'd only had one possession as opposed to the charters two.

"OK, Redwood!" Tig called out, passing the ball to Happy under the basket. "Let's finish 'em off!" He didn't look happy about the way the game was going. He hadn't played in years either, and his lady wasn't making this easy for him.

Happy had the inbounds pass, Cat guarded him, as he was in her zone. Unlike many guards who would wave their arms and jump around, Cat remained crouched with her arms outstretched, ready to jump at the pass. She watched Happy's body for tell tale movements as opposed to his face.

She saw Happy was going for an overhead pass to Tig, who was waiting under the basket to make an easy two for the win. As Happy released the ball, Cat jumped as high as she could, her fingers grazing the ball. It was enough to tip it away from Tig, but the ball landed right into Jax's hands instead of a Charter's.

"Shit!"

Jax passed the ball to Tig, who turned to grin at her before making a hook shot that went straight through the net for the game.

"Redwood wins by one!" The ref called out.

Cat was panting and disappointed by the loss. She eyeballed her man, standing shirtless under the basket, looking smug and satisfied with himself, a slight sheen of perspiration covering his face and chest. He was also breathing a little hard. Knowing she'd made him _work _for the win gave her some satisfaction.

"Who were you calling 'old fart' earlier?" he growled with that smug smile on his face. He accepted a towel from the blonde girl without acknowledgement, making her pout again.

"Yeah, you're not old. Just a fart," she growled. "Damn good game, love. I didn't know you played," she added. If nothing else, she was going to be a good sport, unless the ribbing went on too long.

He laughed at her, threw the towel back to the blonde and accepted his shirt from the referee, sliding it over his head before taking her in his arms. "You're not the only one who doesn't tell everything right up front. Best way to keep you interested."

"I'm _always_ interested, love. Don't think you'll ever bore me," she replied, laying her head on his chest.

"Good try, Cat," and "Thanks, Cat" were delivered by the players from the charter. They were also disappointed by the loss, but they'd made up four points in two possessions. They could be proud of that.

"Good game, ya'll. Thanks for lettin' me in on it."

Back in the clubhouse, the Charters 'treated' the winners to a beer. Having been part of the losing team, Cat anted up for the round as well, though she drank her whiskey flavored coffee.

No one in the group paid any attention to the trio of young women sitting off to one side of them. The trio included the blonde who'd followed Tig around the sidelines during the game. The blonde glowered jealously at the sight of the coffeehouse owner surrounded by the group of eligible men, basking in the attention that belonged to _her_.

The dark-haired actress sitting to the blonde's left nudged her sister, Kalai. "Don't look now, KD's jealous!"

"No kidding!" Kalai laughed.

"I am not!" KD replied in a huff.

"Why are you wasting your time mooning after a Son who has an old lady, when there's all that imported beefcake?" Lanai asked.

"Because Tig said he loves me!"

Kalai shook her head. "Honey, once a Son takes an old lady, he won't chase anything local. Look what happened to Cherry when she came to town and Gemma thought she was after Clay! If you want Tig, you'll have to leave town!"

"First, I'm not afraid of that old skank. She's not half the woman Gemma is! Second, if I wanted another man, he'd already be wrapped around my little finger! I don't want another man. I want Tig!"

"And people in Hell want ice water!" Lanai snapped. 'Every time there's a party, it's the same thing. I hope Tig's there. I want Tig! It's ridiculous!' She gathered her patience to her and added, "Honey, learn something from Ima's experience. She thought Jax wanted her, he was just being nice. She got her heart broken at the wrap party, remember?"

"I'm not Ima. Besides, Jax never told Ima he loved her. Tig said that he loves me. Why would he say it if he didn't mean it?"

"Hello!" Kalai replied mockingly. "He was drunk! So were you. He might've said something else when he dumped you off him and you just wanted to believe he said that!"

"Yeah," Lanai added. "If he were really interested in you, he wouldn't have let some other guy have you at the wrap party, nor would he be with the old broad."

The trio fell silent as Clay Morrow walked over to the group at the bar, wanting to hear the conversation. Maybe they'd learn something they could use.

"I've been talking with the Charters and Nomads all evening about the motorcade. Everyone's OK about you piloting Otto on your own bike, Cat."

The riders raised their bottles in salute as Alex draped a casual arm around her waist. KD and her friends rolled their eyes at Clay's announcement and KD's eyes narrowed in anger at the attention Tig was giving the older woman.

Throughout the remainder of the evening, her eyes were glued on Tig in the hopes that she would be able to get him alone. To her disappointment, he never allowed himself to be alone long enough to let her hit on him, which did nothing for her temper. Her friends eventually gave up on her and sought friendlier faces.

* * *

Gemma and Otto had gone off to the chapel to talk about other matters related to LuAnn's death. The chapel was the quietest place in the clubhouse for them to talk without interruption.

The fact that he had to deal with an 'estate' had finally sunk in. "I told Cat and Tig yesterday that I didn't want to go out to the house. I didn't think I could stand the idea of going there without LuAnn."

"And now you're having second thoughts?" Gemma asked.

He nodded. "I have to be realistic. My parole is in limbo. Stahl's doing everything she can to keep me behind bars for a long time. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is the house and the insurance on Caracara. There's not enough time for me to pack everything; I don't have the money for storage. The one thing I don't want is for the house to become a hang out for the actresses."

"You know we wouldn't let that happen."

"But you and the club shouldn't have to worry about it, either," Otto replied.

"Have you talked to Rosen about your options?"

"Not yet. I put in a call to his officer earlier, left Cat and Tig's phone number. I hope to talk to him tonight or tomorrow."

"Don't make any decisions out of haste, Otto," Gemma assured him. "I know your time is limited, but there's plenty of time to make the big decisions. Let us help you."

"I'll think on it. I'm going out to the house tonight, just to look around for a bit. Did LuAnn change the locks after I entered prison?"

"Not that I know of. I still have the key she gave me some time ago," she replied.

"Yeah, probably the same one I have. Guess I'll find out. If worse comes to worse, I can always get a locksmith."

"Do you want me to take you there?" Gemma asked.

He shook his head. "No, I'll ask Tig to take me later. I need to talk with him anyway. Man stuff," he added with a small grin. "I want to thank you, Gemma, for being LuAnn's friend, and for handling the arrangements. It's good to have family to depend on."

He reached out his hands to Gemma, who took both his hands in hers. He rose and embraced her as she sat thinking over Otto's plight with the 'estate'. Then Otto moved to the door and out into the clubhouse, looking for Tig or Cat. He was ready to leave. He had thinking to do and couldn't do that in the noisy clubhouse.

Nomads and visiting charter riders were hooking up with the croweaters and Caracara actresses. Some went off to other areas of the clubhouse to get friendly, while others chatted, played pool, or danced.

Cat went into the kitchen to check on the coffee supply for the morning. There was some regular, non-flavored ground coffee, but the whiskey flavored coffee she'd brought was used up. There wasn't enough for a full cup, much less a pot.

"Looks like the coffeehouse will be busy in the morning after all," Alex observed, as he came up behind her and started nuzzling her neck. "Just as you intended."

"Don't complain too much, stud, all y'all get the benefit of the proceeds, y'know!" She placed her hands over his, giving them a quick squeeze before she slipped out of his embrace and started to bag up the unopened pies she'd brought.

"Gonna store those at home?"

"Might as well. There's room in the freezer, and they'll come in handy for the next potluck. I'll leave the opened and cut ones here in case anyone gets the munchies later," she replied, walking with the bags towards the exit. Alex accompanied her to the car. He took advantage of the momentary isolation to grab her and kiss her deeply.

"Too damn many people around here to do what I wanna do to you," he grumbled.

"There's always later, dearheart. Gives you a reason to come home!" she laughed, leaning into his chest.

"I don't need _that _as a reason to come home," he replied. "_You're_ the reason I look forward to coming home."

The rumble of his voice sounded like a large cat's purr to her ear. She patted his ass with one hand as she broke his embrace. "Be sure to put the hatch back down, love. I'm gonna see if Otto's ready to go."

He watched her walk back to the clubhouse, admiring the view. He leaned against the wall to smoke and wait for her. 'I'll wait and follow them back. Gives me a chance to get away from that blonde shadow.'

He'd almost finished his cigarette when he saw Otto walking with Cat to the car. Otto had one hand under Cat's elbow. 'He's not hitting on her, that's how she's helping him get around,' he reminded himself as he felt a stab of jealousy creep up on him. 'Guess it's a good idea I'm following them home.'

He watched as she led him to the passenger side door and then walked around to her own door, allowing Otto to get into the car on his own. He was pleased that she didn't 'baby' Otto.

She looked from Alex to the hated seat belt that was latched to foil the sensor. He stared at her until she sighed in resignation and unlocked the latch, allowing the belt to slide back to the door frame. She then settled into the driver's seat and buckled the belt in place. She glared balefully in response to his triumphant smirk, the scar on her neck was already feeling irritated.

"That's my girl," he nodded approvingly. "Wish you'd obey me more often!" He stuck his head into the open window to kiss her goodbye. "You'll get a better reward for your obedience later!" he whispered against her ear.

"Uh-huh, I'll see you later," she replied, inwardly seething at his blatant male chauvinism. She decided to let discretion be the better part of valor with the presence of a guest in the car.

"Actually, I'll be right behind you. Best behave yourself, Otto." Tig growled.

"Jeeze!" Cat rolled her eyes in mock exasperation at him. She started the engine and glanced in the rear view, where she saw the blonde girl from the basketball game leaning against Alex's bike. "Doesn't look like you'll be following right behind us, love. You've got an adoring fan waiting for you," she observed with a grin. "Enjoy yourself, just don't make_ too _late of a night of it!"

She pulled away before he could reply to her taunt, but she kept one eye on the rear view mirror. There was something about the blonde's behavior and constant presence around Alex that annoyed her. 'I'm not gonna give in to the green eyed monster and disrespect Alex.'

"You're not worried about Tig's 'fan'?" Otto inquired.

"Nah. No reason to be. He's capable of making his own decisions about who he wants to be with, and for what. We have an understanding where that's concerned," she replied. She switched the subject to explain the change in Otto's sleeping arrangements. "I'm putting you up in the library, on a nice air mattress. The bed's all set up. It'll give you more privacy then the living room."

"You didn't have to go to the expense for me!"

"It's not just for you, darlin'," she assured him.  
"We don't have a guest room, didn't figure I'd ever need one. The sofa wasn't goin' to cut it for you and we'd have to eventually have some way to accommodate an overnight guest."

"I appreciate it, Cat. Did you have fun playing basketball against the old man?"

"Yeah. I didn't know he could play so well. Basketball is a second religion back in Indiana; I played on the first girl's team organized at my high school. Did a lot of bench warming, but saw some court time."

"I heard you did pretty well for yourself, especially against some of Tig's more flagrant fouls when he was on defense."

"He does know how to use his hands!" she grinned. "Would've been better if we won, but it was fun."

Tig wasn't amused to see the blond actress leaning against his bike. 'What the fuck does she think she's doing? Nobody leans on my bike! Hell, Cat doesn't and she has the right!' His brows knotted in anger as he strode to his bike.

"Hi, Tiggy! Remember me from the wrap party and Bobby's bash? It looks like you need rescue from that old bag of wrinkles!"

"Do I look like I _want_ rescue?" He growled, not particularly fond of being referred to as 'Tiggy'. He remembered her from both parties. He wasn't interested in a third, more private 'party' with her.

"Gee, Tiggy, don't look so mean!" the girl pouted. "You certainly seemed willing to get friendly until you cold shouldered me at the wrap party! I'm KD Christenson - one of Caracara's best! Frankly, after the way you dissed me, I shouldn't be giving you the time of day, but I decided to grant you a second chance just to show I love you as much as you love me!"

'Her behavior has been a complete turn off. So is her appearance. The only thing she had going for her is her rack, and that's prolly as fake as the rest of her.' probably wasn't all natural.' He winced at the sound of her voice, another thing he didn't like about her. "Don't call me Tiggy and move your ass away from my bike."

KD pouted at him, her full, collagen-inflated lips wet and lucious. "C'mon, Tiggy! The night's still young! So am I! Wouldn't you rather suck on these than those droopy old gorilla tits that just left?" She raised her shirt to display her boobs, which were pointing right at him, the nipples already taunt and inviting.

"Put your shirt down!" he snarled, any interest he might have entertained in her destroyed by the ugly words spewing from her mouth. He was feeling embarassed for her.

KD refused to move, staring at him in shock and anger. He was turning her down again! "I don't believe it! Tiggy turning down sweetbutt for a fat old hag that smells like cat piss!"

Tig grabbed the actress by the arms and roughly pulled her away from the Dyna. "You don't listen well. I told you twice to get away from my bike and not to call me 'Tiggy'. I don't like to repeat myself."

He turned to straddle the bike and reached for his helmet. KD quickly threw her arms around him, rubbing her well-endowed chest on his arm while one hand slid down his leg towards his cock. "I wanna be with you, Tig. Surely you'd prefer some nice, tight pussy to that old, skanky, stretched out twat!" she whined as she rubbed her crotch suggestively against his leg.

Tig grabbed her arms and shoved her away from him, sending her to the ground on her ass. "Don't **ever **talk that way about my woman again! If I hear any more shit from you, I'll make sure you _don't_ enjoy the consequences!" He climbed on the bike and started it, not taking the time to secure his helmet and pulled away from the fuming actress. 'She doesn't want _me_, just the notoriety of being seen with me. A guy doesn't always want a foul mouthed twat with a rack. She's got a lot to learn.'

"This isn't over yet, Tiggy," she muttered angrily as his bike roared out of the lot. "I'll have you. All I have to do is get Gorilla Tits out of the picture!"

* * *

Cat glanced at Otto as they drove towards the house. She sensed that he was restless and not yet ready to settle for the evening. "It's been a pretty busy day for you, Otto. Have you reconsidered going by your house? We can swing by there if you want."

"Not right now, Cat. Thanks."

"When we get home, I'll have to corral Ebony. He's a bit of an escape artist and will be waitin' right by the door to try to get out. Just give me a couple of minutes to get him secure," she explained as she turned into the driveway. She parked in the usual spot and opened the door to the house to snare Ebony. She confined him to the small bathroom while Otto leaned against the porch railing to smoke.

As she returned to the front door, the roar of the Harley in the drive announced Alex's arrival. She held the door open while the men entered the house, then released the large feline from his confinement.

"Want a beer, Otto?" she asked as Ebony ran through the living room, his tail lashing angrily at being denied another escape opportunity.

"Sure, if Tig's havin' one."

"One other thing in Life you can be sure of besides Death and taxes," she grinned. "Two beers, comin' up!" She retrieved the beers and handed them to the men, allowing them to open their own bottles. Then she went outside to retrieve the pies and carried them to the garage, placing them in the freezer.

She returned to the kitchen and set up the coffepot for the following morning. "Otto, I'm gonna be in the office for a bit, checkin' the store website for orders. If you'd feel more comfortable havin' Tig take you to your house, that's OK with me." She glanced at Alex apologetically, but he nodded his understanding at being 'volunteered'. She sat on the arm of his chair, sliding her arm around his neck. "Thanks, love," she whispered.

"You owe me. I'll collect later," he mouthed at her.

She ruffled his hair and continued, "You'll find the other bathroom all set up. There's soap and shampoo in the tub/shower unit, and towels and washcloths are on the sink along with toothpaste and a brush. Wasn't sure of your preference, so I tried to get 'manly' brands."

"Thanks, Cat. All the comforts of home," Otto grinned and raised his bottle at her in salute.

Alex rested his head against her side, his nose buried in her shirt. The smell of her sweat mixed with her regular berries and soap scent. It was a clean smell that did more to arouse him than any costly perfume. 'She still worries about smelling bad, and she shouldn't. Gals like KD don't know what the fuck they're talkin' about. Why they think that making nasty comments about another woman makes them desirable is beyond me.' He pulled her face down to his, extracting a kiss from her.

"I'll let you know if we go out to Otto's house, babe. Don't stay on the computer too long."

"I won't," she replied. There was no need for her to mention the blonde. Alex had come home to _her_.

Tig sighed contentedly and sipped his beer. He heard music coming from the office. She was already busy with the coffeehouse website.

"You've got a good home life, Tig. I never thought you'd ever settle with any one woman."

"Same here, brother. Cat's different from other women. She cares, does the right thing without being asked. Hell, I don't know how to explain it except she completes me. I can close my eyes around her."

"That's the way I felt about LuAnn. For all her outward faults, and she wasn't perfect by any means, she was my world." Otto thought about Cat's parting words to Tig when they left the club. "What about the fan that was waiting for you. Was it one of the actresses?"

Tig frowned at the mention of KD. "Yeah. She has a lot to learn. Nice rack, but a man gets tired of big boobs, bony bodies, a small brain and no heart."

Otto nodded. 'About time you grew up, bud.' He polished off his beer. "Would you mind taking me out to the house? I need to go through it, before I go back. There might not be time tomorrow. The place'll have to be closed down eventually. I won't get parole for some time."

"No worries. Just give me a minute," Tig replied. He walked down the hall to the office and leaned against the door, watching Cat work. Otto grinned as he listened to their conversation, so similar to ones he'd had with LuAnn.

"Hey, baby. Otto and I are gonna run out to his house. Shouldn't be gone very long. I'm takin' the PT."

Otto noticed that Tig didn't ask about using her car, but told her he was taking it. 'Acts like they're married,' he mused. 'Certainly has the what's yours is mine part down pat.'

"Fine by me, love. There's a few things related to the merchandise line I need to work on tonight, anyway. Glad y'all have somethin' to amuse yourselves."

"Damn! Almost forgot. Got your design to the shirt suppliers. Here's the quote on your first and furture orders," he withdrew a piece of paper from his back pocket and handed it to her. "They'll have the shirts ready in time for the rally," he added.

"You didn't use too much 'persuasion' on 'em, did you?" she replied, favoring him with 'the look'.

"Nah. Didn't have to," he remarked with a sly grin, moving forward to cup her face in his hands. "Be back shortly, baby." He kissed her hungrily, allowing the sweet nectar of her response to wipe away the sourness of the confrontation with KD.

"See ya when I see ya, love." She got up and followed him into the living room where Otto waited. "Just in case I'm not in the office when y'all get back, just wanted to say goodnight, Otto. Hope you sleep as well as possible."

"Thank you, Cat. Sleep well yourself."

She returned to the office with Misty hurrying after her. Alex grabbed his beer and walked out to the PT with Otto. He didn't normally carry an open bottle in the car. Otto's house wasn't that far, and he didn't want a perfectly good beer to go flat.

Otto took the opportunity to talk about Cat's loss as they drove to the house. "I've got to confess to giving Cat a rough time when we were at the coffeehouse today." He could sense Tig's temper rising and hastily added, "She was being nice, offering empathy that I mistook for being PC. That's when it came out about her being a widow. The thing that bothers me is she doesn't seem to be the type of person who would make a radical change just because of a home burglary."

"I know," Tig replied quietly, calming from his momentary overprotectiveness. "I've thought about that, too. She doesn't like to talk about it."

Otto nodded. "She gave me the basics, but I sense that there's a lot more to the story. Did you know she carries a lot of guilt about it?"

"No. What could she feel guilty about?"

Otto spread his hands. "I think it's from something in their relationship."

"Guess you'd be in a better position to sense things like that," he replied thoughtfully as they pulled up to the house and parked. Tig walked with him to the front door, then returned outside, allowing Otto an opportunity for some privacy. He leaned against the PT, enjoying a smoke and the rest of his beer. His mind drifted back to KD's attempts to seduce him, and his reaction to it.

The actress had made no effort to disguise her interest. Her scatching remarks about Cat made that clear. He wasn't sure which of her comments angered him more, the ones about Cat's hygiene or her appearance.

'I remember when we first met, dismissing her as having more meat on her than I preferred. That was stupid! Look what I'd be missing if I'd stuck by that line of thinking!' He blew smoke over his head, staring into it as if it held answers.

When they'd started their relationship, she'd given him _carte blanche_ to indulge his perverse side. He did just that when the Sons had patched over the Devils Tribe. As time went on, he found himself less interested in what other women had to offer.

He thought back to Bobby's homecoming, his first encounter with KD. She wore leather strips around her boobs and ass, covered with fishnet hose. She wore black leather stiletto boots. She'd followed him around the club throughout the party, hoping for a piece of him. He had drunk a lot of beer, trying to get over his lingering guilt for Donna's death.

He gotten too drunk to ride and wasn't ready to crash in an empty room of the clubhouse so he'd crawled onto the bar to rest. KD had appeared, unbuttoned his shirt and started on his pants. He wasn't into having sex before an audience and had stopped her from undressing him by asking her to find them a room. She'd laughed at the idea, so he'd turned his back to her and passed out. When Alvarez called the prepay, he'd found KD sprawled out on top him, ass to his face and her face nestled in his crotch.

'I never should've said that bit about loving her after I tossed her to the floor,' he mused. 'She obviously took it literally. I don't undestand why she pulled the same shit at the wrap party, trying to have sex in full view of everyone. She got pretty vicious when I turned away from her at the party. She wasn't real pleased with my turning her down again tonight. I have a feeling she's gonna be trouble.'

Otto paused in the front entry, relieved that Tig didn't feel it necessary to keep him company. He knew the layout of the house. LuAnn wasn't much for rearranging things. He knew where every stick of furniture was placed.

He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his home, storing the memory for the empty years to come. There were lingering traces of LuAnn's perfume thoughout the house. He could sense her in each room, in each piece of furniture and knicknack. It hurt, but is was a very sweet pain.

He slowly moved through each room, his questing fingers taking in the textures of fabrics and woods, glass and metal and china.

He returned to the main room, filled with sofas and chairs, where he and LuAnn had often visited with friends like Clay and Gemma, talking, smoking, and drinking.

There was the kitchen, where they've often sat with friends for dinners but most often had meals to themselves. 'LuAnn had a knack for making a simple dinner quite an affair!' he remembered with a grin.

He stepped into the garage where his bike had shared space with LuAnn's red Corvette. The smell of motor oil and gasoline reminded him of the number of times he'd worked on one machine or the other, LuAnn perched on a shelf or stool to keep him company.

He finally walked into the bedroom. 'How many nights did we spend right here – in that bed – loving each other until the sun rose? We'd talk and dream together. This was our sanctuary. Our own world where SAMCRO and Caracara didn't exist. It was just us. This was where I felt most alive and loved.'

His fingers brushed against the vanity. He knew each piece of jewelry in her box, whether he'd given it to her or not. He knew the story of each ring, bracelet, necklace and earring there. His hand closed around her hairbrush. There were a few hairs caught in the bristles. 'She had such gorgeous long hair. I could brush it for hours and never get tired!' He carefully removed the captured hair from the bristles and wrapped them in one of his bandannas. 'I'll figure out some way to bring them to my cell as a keepsake. For now, they'll safe in this bandanna.'

He opened the closet and her scent wrapped around him from her clothes. Silks, satins, cottons, and other fabrics met his hands. Her scent and her presence seemed strongest there. He could picture the rows of shoes in the closet; boots, sandals, and other footwear of all colors. 'She wore all colors well,' he recalled fondly. 'No matter what she wore, she looked good to me.'

Otto felt like he could stay in that closet forever. He wished it were possible, but his present circumstances didn't allow that. All he could do was mourn his loss and try to find small mementos that he could take back to Stockton. Just little things he could treasure until, sometime in the distant future, he received his parole.

He roamed through the house, picking up a picture here, an item there, and placing them in a small box. It was so little to show for so many years together! He placed the box next to the front entry, then returned to the bedroom to sit at the foot of the bed where he could think awhile.

'Gemma's right. I need to do something with the place. Either put it up for sale or have Rosen find someone to manage it as a rental property. I need to decide what to do with her clothing and possessions, as well as mine. Damn! So much to do and so little time to do it!'

He laid his head in his hands as memories of his life with LuAnn raced through his mind's eye. 'This will never be home to me again. It takes more than four walls and a roof to make a home. The heart of my home is gone forever. There's no sense holding on to a structure that will torment me.'

He rose to his feet and straightened his shoulders. He returned to the front entry, opened the door and called, "Hey, Tig! Could you lend me a hand? I'm finished here."

"You OK, baby?" Clay asked as he entered the silent, semi-darkened dining room. Gemma was sitting at the table, smoking. The bird was in its' cage for the night and quiet. The only illumination was a small table lamp behind her and the overhead kitchen light.

"No," Gemma replied quietly. She exhaled a plume of smoke. "I miss my friend."

Clay sat in the chair next to her, his hand caressing her cheek. He could appreciate how close Gemma and LuAnn had been. 'Closer than Tig and me when you come down to it. I wish now I hadn't gone ballstic on her at the studio earlier. Things have been fucked up between us since the wreck. I was jealous that she ran to talk to LuAnn after blowing me off a few hours beforehand.'

Gemma had to mentally brace herself not to flinch from Clay's caress, even though she craved his touch. It was still difficult for her to accept any kind of contact from him after the attack the night of Bobby's homecoming. 'It's not right to take it out on him. Just about the time I feel like I'm getting past it, something happens to make it all come back again.' She covered his hands with hers and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, baby. Didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's OK. I know this is hard on you. What did you and Otto decide about the house?"

"He's not sure. He wants to talk with Rosen, but said he was going to have Tig take him out to there later tonight. The one thing he _did _say is that he doesn't want the house standing empty, and he doesn't want it to become a hang-out."

"Can't say that I blame him there," Clay replied.

"What can we do to help?"

"Don't we have an unused room at the garage that could be used for storage?"

"We did. I've been letting Opie rebuild that bike there. He doesn't need the storeroom now. Why?"

Gemma took another inhale on her cigarette, then extinguished it. "I'd like to offer it to Otto to store anything he wants until he gets parole. I have a feeling he's going to let the house go."

Clay considered her suggestion carefully. 'Any man wants the security of having someplace to go once released from jail. But that house holds a lot of memories, both good and bad. I know I couldn't handle coming back here without Gemma. Doubt Otto would feel any different."

He nodded at her and replied, "I think that's a good idea. Next time we get a chance, we'll make the offer to him."

Gemma smiled warmly in return. She felt some genuine stirrings inside her for the first time in weeks. She wanted to bridge the gap between them, but didn't know how to try. The moment passed, and her heart sank again. 'Maybe he'll never want me again, I've put him off so many times.'

Clay felt like there was an opportunity to bring them closer than they'd been since the accident, but he questioned his timing. 'She's burying her best friend tomorrow. I can't expect her to want sex when she's hurting like this.' He buried his desire for her deep inside himself. He kissed her cheek and rose to his feet. 'Don't stay up too late, baby. See you in the morning.'

* * *

Otto had been quiet since they'd left the house, and it was getting on Tig's nerves. "Do y'know Cat has never given me shit about the club since we started this thing? At first I told her only I wanted her to know, now she's more open to what's going on."

"You're lucky, man. But I think she might not have busted your balls for other reasons. Not just because of the way your relationship has grown. I'd make book that it has to do with her losing her husband."

"Maybe it's time I found out more about that," Tig replied thoughtfully.

"Don't grill her tonight, wait 'til morning. If you could get her to talk about it, maybe I can get some ideas from her experience. Besides, that game tired her out. You played hard."

"I live hard, play harder. She knows I like to win at everything," Tig laughed as they walked into the house.

"I'm going to take her up on that offer of the tub. Thanks for taking me out there. Have a good night."

"You too," Tig replied, watching as Otto worked his way down the hall to the library. The office was dark. Cat had apparently finished her work. He turned out the lights after securing the doors and headed for the bedroom. The door was closed. He opened it quietly, just in case she was already asleep.

His bedside lamp was turned on. Cat was reclining on the bed waiting for him. She'd put on the gown she'd worn on their wedding night. "Are you the collection man?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Yeah, baby! Come to collect what I've got comin' to me!" he sneered, his hands undoing his belt as he shut the door behind him and stalked across the room.

She patted the bed invitingly. "Are you _sure_ you didn't make yourself stiff from the workout earlier?"

He grinned wickedly as he removed his shirt and threw it across the room, moving to stand in front of her. "Baby, the only place I'm stiff is where it counts!"

"So I notice," she smirked as she embraced him.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER

The following is a work of fiction.

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are my own creation. Any similarities to real persons are merely a coincidence. However, the Reserve Officers Association Chapter 7 and Camp Atterbury, IN are real entities.

Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me _all _my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. We've had 15 great years together; here's to many more!

My best friend (who does live in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. My unofficial 'Godchild', her daughter, for her love as well.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement in this venture, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, and Facebook friends who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on , check out her SOA/Tig Story called 'Sapphires and Whiskey'. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art. I love it!

**Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager. **

**Charming Pawse **

**Book 2 **

**Chapter 5 **

**Cat Recalls**

**the Night Bill Died **

**and**

**Why She Really Relocated **

Cat was awake long before her alarm the morning of the funeral. She'd dreamed about the night Bill died and the days that followed. Despite the reassuring presence of the cats at her feet and Alex pressed against her backside, she couldn't get back to sleep.

She hadn't been visited by that dream for many months. Donna's death hadn't brought it back, so she couldn't understand why it had chosen that night to return. She lay in the semi dark bedroom, listening to the snores of the cats and Alex as sleep continued to elude her. 'Telling Otto about it must've brought the damn thing back. It's not nerves about bein' in the motorcade! I've been to far too many of these things in my life not to know how to behave.' She decided to quit fighting the bed and slid out from under Alex's arm. He stretched and turned over, burrowing under the covers and pillow.

She showered, treated her wounded palm, and dressed in the outfit she'd picked after combing through her closet the night before for an outfit that was dressy but compatible with the bike. She'd opted for velvet cords, suede fringed boots, velour v-neck top and satin overshirt, all in black. The only color accent was a necklace with a gold cat on the end of the chain. The cat had garnet eyes, and a white jeweled collar with an orange stone heart tag on it.

While the men had been at Otto's house the previous evening, she'd made a tape from a vinyl album. She hoped the selections would give Otto some comfort not only that day, but in the days and weeks to come. She had a cassette player she could part with, which she stored in the Yamaha's trunk along with the cassette.

She started the coffeemaker. Instead of cooking, she ventured to the coffeehouse. She o wanted to make sure things were running well, given the number of nomads and charter riders in town.

She walked through the back of the store and filled a _'Charming Pawse' _pastry box with a selection of scones and muffins, including a few of Alex's favorites. She went to the front to pay for her items and found Pete and Adrian busily filling drink and food orders for charters and nomads. The riders were making a run on the whiskey flavored coffee. Their orders were moving swiftly, and the riders were patient.

"Looks like business is brewing," she remarked as she selected two pounds each of the Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort blends.

"Sure is, Miss Cat," Adrian grinned at her pun. They tip well, too," he nodded toward the overflowing kitty jar.

"The stock holding up OK?" She'd anticipated the whiskey flavored coffee would go over well with the visitors, and Miss Anna had indicated there was plenty, but she didn't want to take chances. If more beans needed to be flavored and roasted she'd have to call Christopher or JR in early to do it.

"Everything's fine, Miss Cat," Pete assured her. "You prepared more than enough of the whiskey flavored beans. We've sold quite a few bags to the out of town charters!"

"Good. I'll get out of your way," she said, ringing up and paying for her items. "If anything comes up, call the cell. I'll check for messages as often as I can."

"You do what you have to do today, Miss Cat. Don't worry. We've got things under control," Pete assured her, pouring out two more coffees and setting out two warmed muffins on plates. "Whiskey blacks and cinnamon raisin muffins warm!" He called out the orders then turned his attention back to his employer. "By the way, we need to talk about the rally. From the feedback we're getting, we're not going to have enough space to hold it here."

"We'll definitely talk tonight," she replied as she retreated to the back door. "If I don't call you, call me at the house."

She crossed the back yard to find Alex sitting in one of the chairs, semi-awake with his shirt unbuttoned and open to the sun. He was enjoying a cup of coffee and a smoke.

"Hey!" she called.

"Hey, back! I woke up alone and missed you. Nervous about today?"

She shook her head. "Just woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. I didn't want to disturb you by fightin' the bed," she replied.

"Should've disturbed me, I'd have found a way to get you back to sleep," he grinned wolfishly, blowing smoke out through his nose.

"That's why I got up. You did a good job of puttin' me to sleep last night," she grinned. "You're insatiable!"

"Can't help it that I have healthy appetites," he replied. His eyes lit up at the sight of the pastry box. "Speaking of which, anything in that box for me?"

She held the box tauntingly out of his reach. "Maybe. Though why I indulge you is beyond me."

"You enjoy spoiling me," he gazed longingly at the box. She was standing just far enough away that he'd have to get up. He was comfortable and didn't feel like moving. 'She'll get too close soon enough,' he consoled himself.

"Hmpf!" she snorted. "First Bill, now you. How come _I_ get blursed with two guys in my life who can eat like hogs without having to worry about it?"

"It's a man thing, babe." His eyes assumed a sad, sorrowful, puppy-like expression as he continued to gaze hungrily at the pastry box. 'I know there's at least _one_ Snicker Bar Muffin in there!' Next to the cookies his father-in-law sent every month, his next favorite baked delicacy was her muffins. "I can't wait to taste the love you put in every bite," he added.

"Damn you!" she growled, opening the box and removing a muffin. "You _know _I can't deny you anything!" She started to hand the muffin to him, only to have him grab her by the arm and pull her into his lap. He took the muffin, placed it back in the box and put the box on the table next to his chair before kissing her long and hard.

"Morning, wife." He examined her palm, noting the wound looked none the worse for wear from the previous night's basketball game. She had covered it with guaze and an elastic bandage. "I'll redo that for you later," he remarked.

"Mornin', husband," she replied, resting her head against his shoulder. "I'd appreciate that."

He retrieved his muffin and took a large, satisfied bite.

"Hey, be careful!" she yelped, as crumbs from the muffin fell onto her chest. "Don't get crumbs down my titsling!"

Alex looked at the modest V-neck of her shirt, mentally comparing it to the more revealing tops worn by KD and the other actresses the night before. "I doubt any self respecting crumb could find it's way down there without a GPS device!"

"Huh! I'm surprised you know what that is! Would you prefer I flaunted my best assets?" she asked, playfully sticking out her chest for emphasis.

"Hell, no! I'd have to kill the competition," he replied, licking the offending crumbs from her clevage and planting a kiss right at the base of her throat.

"Then quitcher bitchin'," she laughed as his beard and mustache brushed against her skin.

"Not bitching, observing. I better be the only one that gets to enjoy the view.' He munched contentedly. "You smell good. It's different."

"White tea and ginger lotion and ginger scents cologne," she replied.

The golden cat figurine glittered in the sunlight, catching his attention. He palmed it, taking note of the garnet eyes and jeweled collar. "Don't recall seeing this."

"You haven't. It's been in my jewlery box. It's a present Bill gave me long ago. I can wear something else if it bothers you."

He glared in response to her comment. It was natural she'd think of Bill on a day like this. "Dammit! I _knew_ this wasn't buried back in Indiana!" He growled. "I'm_ not _jealous of a ghost! Leave it."

"Yes, love," she snuggled against him, sighing contentedly. "Otto up?"

"Yeah. Dressed and depressed. He got a call from Rosen this morning about their 'estate'. LuAnn didn't have a will, so things are gonna take time to sort out."

"Guess they never expected it would be needed until later in life," she mused.

"Guess not," he agreed. 'Not a smart thing in our line of work. It's fine if you don't have anyone. Guess it's time to talk to Rosen.'

He finished his muffin and took care of any stray crumbs in his own unique way. When he finished, they walked into the house where Otto was sitting at the table, an empty cup of coffee sat in front of him. He was staring off into space.

Cat poured a fresh cup of coffee for him and set out a small plate and napkins on the table, removed the baked goods from the box and arranged them on a platter, which she also set on the table. "There's muffins and scones on the large plate, Otto. Help yourself."

She put the bag of coffee next to the door so she could grab it when they left for the funeral, then

poured coffee for herself and Alex. She selected a scone, indicating he should follow her. He grabbed his cup and another Snicker Bar Muffin and followed her into the bedroom.

"What's up, babe?"

"I just wanted to give Otto some privacy. He doesn't need me hovering over him like a mother hen." She quickly made the bed, then sat down and leaned against the pillows. She picked up her coffee but left the scone on the table.

Alex set his coffee and muffin down long enough to get comfortable on his side of the bed. "Why does that surprise me?"

She shrugged, sipping more coffee. "You tell me."

"Anyone else would constantly remind Otto that he owes 'em. You've not thrown his situation in his face, treated him like a guest and a man instead of a felon."

"He _is_ a man and our guest," she replied, still not comfortable with the praise for her behavior.

Alex sensed her discomfort and decided to it was time to change the subject. "Here we have all this spare time, and you not only get your shower in, you make the bed, too!"

"Guess we'll have to find some other way to fill the time," she retorted. "I could do some work on the opening for the rally."

He shrugged, not wanting to let on that he had an agenda. "If that's what you wanna do. Seems a waste when we've got this chance to have some uninterrupted time together."

She cast a suspicious glance at him, wondering what he was up to. 'He's right, though. I can work on the montage when he's otherwise occupied.'

He returned her gaze with an innocent expression. "Anything wrong with wanting some time with your woman when no one and nothing can butt in?"

"No. You're right. I can work on the opening anytime. You have my full attention. What do you want to do, besides the usual?"

Alex pretended to consider her question. There was really only one "other" thing he wanted to do; learn the real reason behind her move to Charming and what caused that guilt Otto sensed in her. He finally replied, "You could tell me the whole story about Bill's death. You're thinking of him anyway, so why not share it _all_ with me?"

She stared at him in surprise. "You really wanna go over all that again? I told you about it long ago!"

"Uh, uh. You told me what you _wanted_ to tell. You never told me how you got through his murder and everything that came later. We're in full disclosure mode now, baby. That makes a difference."

"But today? Now?"

"I see what Otto's going through – what Opie went through – but can't understand it. Sure, I lost that girlfriend years ago, but it's not the same." He paused a moment, then added, "I hoped if you shared your experience with me, I could relate better. Especially with Otto. He's going through Hell."

Alex was telling a white lie; he and Otto had decided to get her to talk about her loss. Otto had sensed her guilt when she spoke to him about it. Alex knew how guilt could eat at a person if it wasn't dispensed with. He didn't want her going through the mental shit he was enduring.

She sipped more coffee, hiding her distress behind the large mug. 'He knows I'd walk through fire for him. Does he have _any_ idea what he's asking?' She gave him the 'look' as she replied, "It's not a pretty story, Alex."

"Baby, you can't tell me it doesn't bother you. I'll bet that had something to do with you waking up early and being unable to go back to sleep."

She glared at him. 'Dammit! Nothin' gets past him!'

"Weren't you just saying that you can't deny me anything?" he added.

"OK! OK! You win. But I need a refill," she sighed in resignation.

"Sit. I'll get it." He took both cups to the kitchen for a refill. When he returned, he sat off to the side with his legs crossed so he could watch her as she talked.

While he was in the kitchen, Tig quietly informed Otto that she had agreed to talk, and led Otto back to the library. Tig deliberately left the door open to enable him to eavesdrop.

"Like you always tell me, baby, just start at the beginning. I'm all attention. You do _not_ have the option of leaving anything out."

The night Bill died was like any other night. He was working until the store closed at midnight, but wouldn't be home until nearly 3AM. Closing meant he had to set up the cash drawers, prepare the deposit and count the receipts, put away returns, clean the place, and several other assorted tasks for the next morning.

She had gotten away from work late which was not unusual. A call came in right at the end of her shift, forcing her to have to deal with a major problem a co-worked had blown off with a 'pat' answer. The customer called back, very unhappy with the outcome of the previous call. She had taken the time to work out a solution for the unhappy customer without getting a 'thank-you'.

The cats met her at the door, crying for attention and supper. She gave in to their demands then called the store to let Bill know she was home and safe. She'd tried to call on her way home but didn't get an answer. It made her a little concerned. She knew there were times when the staff couldn't answer the phone, but given the location of the store, unanswered phone calls made her nervous.

The phone rang several times, but he finally picked up. "Thank you for calling The Video Store. This is Bill, how may I help you?"

"Hi, Pookie. Just got in. The usual reason. You busy?"

"Yes. Someone called in sick and we're swamped. People are in line so I can't talk right now," he replied. "Glad you're home safe," Before she could reply, the line went dead.

"Damn! Not even a 'goodbye' or 'miss you'!" She growled, replacing the cordless on the charger. She missed him, and wished he could've taken a quick break long enough to say a decent 'hello'.

It seemed that things had been getting worse for them after he'd lost a promotion to Melissa Johns a few months earlier. Cat considered the gal incompetent and figured she was being kind with that opinion. Anytime there was a crisis involving the chain, she called Bill to handle it.

That annoyed her for a lot of reasons: handling crisises was Melissa's job; the calls always took away from what little time Cat and Bill had together; and it appeared that the owner didn't care _who _handled the problems as long as **he** wasn't bothered by them.

The crisis calls seemed to grow in frequency, turning her annoyance into a smouldering rage until she eventually threw harsh epithets at her husband whenever Melissa called. Bill wouldn't argue with her, choosing to remain silent and let her vent until she got it out of her system. He always forgave her temper and rages. It didn't keep her from feeling rotten and like a terrible wife after every shitstorm.

"I don't know why you put up with this shit from me, Pookie," she'd told him after her most recent and really nasty 'Vesuvius'. "Don't you get damn tired of the same old thing from me? It's like being around Mother!"

"Don't you start!" He wagged his finger at her in mock warning. "You're _nothing_ like her. Better that you tell me what's bothering you than bottle it up inside like I do," he grinned the boyish smile that dissolved her anger as quickly as it would rise. "I don't disagree with you. It's rough on you to never know when I'm going to get called out. But what can I do? She's my boss, if I tell her to find someone else, she could fire me on the spot! Raj has promised me the next promotion, and things will be a lot better."

"I realize that, but like your card said, '_The waitin' is the hardest part_'! Sometimes I get tired of waitin'."

"You'll see, honey. This whole mess will be worth all your volcanic eruptions. Besides, you're cute when you're mad."

She considered watching television, but there was nothing interesting on. She decided to go to the store and play 'Casper the friendly ghost employee'. She couldn't check out customers, but she _could_ do all the menial tasks that would help get Bill out of there that much sooner.

She changed into jeans, sweatshirt and sneaks, then gathered her cell, wallet, and keys. A quick pet to the felines and the _MF6_ was rolling towards the video store. It was a 20 minute drive from their house; the store wasn't in the best part of town.

Cat turned on the radio and switched over to the local news/talk channel. She'd missed most of the top story concerning an armed robbery in the shopping center that housed the video store. Neither the on-scene reporter nor the anchor

repeated the name of the store, but she wasn't overly concerned. There was a liquor store that cashed checks in the same plaza that was a frequent target of robbers. The reflection of red and blue flashing emergency lights when she turned into the parking lot didn't phase her.

Worry gnawed at her as she neared the parking area for the video store and saw a large number of emergency vehicles and news trucks parked in front of it. 'Don't panic. Multiple cop cars at an armed robbery are normal in this neck of the woods. So are live news trucks,' she consoled herself.

She parked the _MF6 _next to Bill's Hyundai and walked to the building. Her concern intensified when she saw yellow police tape barring entry to the store. The video store had been held up. 'Not that it hasn't happened before,' she reminded herself. 'I'm sure everybody's fine.'

She strained to catch a glimpse of Bill or his employee through the window. She saw uniformed and plainclothes police officers milling about and an EMT dipping behind the counter. What she didn't see was a reassuring sign of Bill. She caught sight of her former mentor and friend, David Walker, who'd provided the live radio report.

She waved at him and David reluctantly returned her greeting. He walked over to her followed by a white shirted police officer. Cat noticed the gold cross of the police chaplain on the officer's lapel. The bad feeling turned into an icy fear in her gut. "David, what's going on? I missed the bulk of the story, and y'all didn't recap."

David's face was pale. He didn't want to be the one to tell her the bad news. "Cat, you need to talk to the chaplain," he replied quietly, stepping aside to allow the chaplain to take his place in front of her.

"Mrs. McLaughlin, I'm Bert Johnson, IMPD chaplain corps. We tried to call your house but didn't get an answer."

"Sorry about that, I was comin' here to help my husband," she replied. "He's been shot, hasn't he?"

Her calm directness caught the chaplain off guard as he'd expected a more emotional response. He recovered quickly to reply, "Yes, I'm afraid so, ma'am. Perhaps you should come with me," he lifted the yellow tape to allow her to duck under it. She glanced at David, not wanting to take him away from his duties, but also needing a friend.

He acknowledged the question in her look with a nod and stepped up next to her. The chaplain and reporter escorted her into the video store, past the uniformed officers and the television reporters scurrying after the police spokesman for the latest update or giving a breaking news feed to their stations.

"Hah! What makes Walker so privileged?" called out one of the reporters. The camera operators' lights bathed the entrance in a harsh white gleam, their video machines recording her entry into the store.

"That's for me to know and you fucktards to find out," she muttered. "No offense, David."

"None taken, Cat. I'm off duty anyway, the station is sending another reporter down to cover the story."

"Thanks," she replied.

As they approached the entrance to the video store, Cat saw that the glass window to the doorway was shattered. The outer entry was filled with pieces of safety glass that crunched under their feet.

They walked around to the side of the counter, and she saw Bill laying on the floor, his white shirt stained crimson while a pool of blood collected on the floor around him.

"I don't care what you say, that tape is _not_ leaving this store! I'm responsible for it and it's not coming out of my bottom line!"

Cat closed her eyes and sighed deeply, the shrill, whining voice of her nemesis, Melissa Johns, grated on her nerves. She could feel the beginnings of a migraine stirring from the woman's voice. 'It figures the bitch would carry on over a two dollar video tape!' She stalked to the office at the back of the store, where Johns was using her body to keep a police detective from exiting. The detective held a video tape in one hand, a tape that might hold the identity of the robber. The detective was quickly losing his patience with the woman. Cat could sympathize with him.

"Melissa, give them the frackin' tape. I'll buy one from stock to replace it," Cat ordered angrily.

"You're not the owner, McLaughlin! _I'm_ in charge, and I said the tape stays here!" The other woman shrieked, her eyes full of spiteful venom.

'That's it!' Cat's right hand curled into a fist and she let fly with a roundhouse punch that caught Johns right under the chin. The force of the blow lifted the district manager off her feet so that she fell on her butt.

Cat withdrew her wallet from her back pocket and removed a five dollar bill, flicking it into Johns' lap. "Buy yourself two frackin' tapes with that!" she retorted, turning to the detective with a grim but apologetic smile.

"You bitch!" Johns shouted, rubbing her chin as she rose to her feet. "Bill's finished here!"

"That's fine with me!" Cat hissed back.

"Officer, I want that bitch arrested for assault! You saw what she did!"

The detective looked from Johns to Cat and back to Johns again, then looked at the tape in his hand. "Ma'am, you'll be better off if I don't. If I arrest her for assault, I have to arrest you for interfering with an investigation and obstruction of justice."

Johns expression turned from anger to haughty indignation. "You wouldn't dare!"

"He would," Cat replied with a feral grin. "And I'll gladly sign a witness statement to it!"

"Your call, ma'am," the detective replied.

"Have it your way," Johns spat. "Bill is no longer our employee. Good luck paying for his care when our liability carrier denies your claim!"

"You just try that, sweetie. Bill was still employed when he was hurt, so they'll pay." Cat smiled sweetly as she added, "By the way, have a nice wait for the door repair people, I'm afraid Bill's a little too preoccupied to fill in for you."

Cat turned on her heel and left the woman sputtering angrily. The detective and the other officers stifled their smiles as they followed. The detective slipped the disputed video tape into an evidence envelope as he moved away from the office.

During the fracas with Johns, the EMTs had managed to get Bill ready for transport. Cat followed the stretcher as it was moved from the store. "I'm his wife," she stated calmly as one EMT climbed into the back of the ambulance. "I'm coming with you."

The chaplain nodded at the driver, and he allowed Cat to join his partner. The doors were closed and the driver ran around to the cab. Seconds later, the ambulance left the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens screaming.

"Don't go to Wishard," Cat advised the EMT. "I'd prefer he go to Methodist."

The EMT related that information to the driver, who signaled an acknowledgement. The EMT placed an oxygen mask over Bill's face, then began working to keep Bill stablized during the trip.

Cat sat next to the stretcher, gazing intently at her husband's pale face and closed eyes. She reached out to take his hand in both of hers, shocked at how cold it felt. His body usually radiated heat. "I'm here, Pookie. Ever and always."

The trip to the hospital didn't take long. The ER entrance loomed in the door windows as the ambulance backed to it. Orderlies and nurses rushed out and opened the back doors, removing the stretcher and rushing it into a treatment room.

Cat followed in their wake, using the momentary confusion to her advantage. She stood in a corner of the treatment room, well out of the way of the doctors and nurses working to safe her man's life. She preferred to be as close to him as she could, the forms could wait.

The doctors and nurses worked hard to save Bill, but she knew they were fighting a losing battle. His blood pressure was extremely low and getting lower, as was his pulse rate and respiration. As she watched, the numbers on the monitors continued to decline.

She tried prayer, but couldn't make her thoughts form the right words. She wanted to beg, plead, and deal with the Almighty for Bill to live, but knew none of that would make a difference. If God wanted to call her man Home, there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The monitor alarms blared, alerting the medical team that Bill's vital signs had flat lined. One doctor on the team began administering manual CPR, He shouted orders to the rest of the team in an attempt to revive his patient.

Another doctor, more tenured and experienced, reached out and took both the younger doctor's hands in his. When their eyes met, the older doctor shook his head and eyed the clock. "12:01 AM," the experienced doctor murmured.

The younger doctor looked at Bill, then at the clock. "He's wearing a ring. Is his wife waiting outside?"

"I'm here," Cat replied softly, not moving from her corner.

The tenured doctor had seen her when he'd first come in, but he'd not had her removed. She was out of the way and not interfering. He decided if she wanted to watch her husband die, she had that right. He motioned Cat forward, and the staff parted to allow her to step up next to the table. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said.

"Not your fault, doctor. All y'all did the best you could," she replied in that same soft voice.

He gestured to the team to leave the room. They quietly filed out, heading to other treatment rooms where their skills were needed.

The tenured doctor stopped long enough to speak with the ER's head nurse. "The patient died. His wife is in the room right now, saying goodbye. Give her a few minutes before letting the morgue attendants in. She can fill out the necessary paperwork after they take the body."

"Yes, doctor," the head nurse acknowledged.

Cat stood next to the treatment table where Bill's body lay. The silence in the room was deafening following the noise and confusion of the last few minutes. 'He's gone,' she told herself. 'Everything that made Bill special has already gone wherever it's supposed to go.' He looked as if he were asleep and would wake up any moment, but she knew that was just wishful thinking. She leaned over and rested her head on his chest. Her arms went around him. "Oh, Pookie. If only I could take back all the bloody fights we had about the job. I'm sorry. You were the best Life had to offer, and I should've been more supportive and appreciative. I love you." She put her lips to his cooling ones, giving him one last kiss. Her reveries were interrupted by a discreet knock on the door.

She straightened up, but continued holding one of his hands in hers. "Enter!"

The door opened to admit the morgue attendants, pushing a stretcher. "We're sorry, ma'am. We--"

She held up her free hand and nodded. "I know. You have to take him to the morgue."

She stepped away from the table, watching as the attendants transferred Bill's body to the stretcher and covered it with a sheet. The attendants wheeled the stretcher from the treatment room, through the triage area and past the waiting lounge. Cat quietly followed behind the stretcher. As they moved past the waiting room, she found not only the police chaplain and David Walker, but also Bill's aunt and uncle waiting for her.

"Guys, could you hold up just a moment?" she asked, waving her relatives over. She lifted the sheet from Bill's face, so they could say their own goodbyes to him.

Aunt Brandy was crying as she approached the stretcher, and hugged Bill. Uncle Mark stood behind his wife and neice-in-law, his face pale and drawn. When Aunt Brandy straightened up, Cat replaced the sheet over Bill's face.

She felt Uncle Mark's arm around her shoulder, and she put her arms around both relatives, sharing their grief. "I have to fill out some paperwork for the hospital. If you'll wait for me," she asked.

"We'll be waiting over here," Aunt Brandy replied, tears streaming down her face before she buried her head in her husband's chest. He led her back to the waiting area.

Cat accepted the clipboard of forms from the head nurse, and quickly filled them out. She wanted to get home before the dam burst on her reserve, but the mundane matters still needed her attention.

"Mrs. McLaughlin?" Cat looked up at the nurse standing in front of her, holding a plastic bag. She knew the bag contained Bill's personal effects. 'That was pretty quick,' she thought. She accepted the bag with a murmured thanks, and glanced at the police chaplain, who nodded in silent response to her unvoiced question.

She nodded her thanks, and returned to the paperwork, holding the bag in one hand. When she completed the forms, she returned the clipboard to the nurse, and asked if there was anything else that required her immediate attention.

"Not from us. Just have the funeral home contact the morgue when they're ready to pick up your husband."

Cat nodded her thanks, inwardly grateful the nurse hadn't refered to Bill as 'the body', and turned to the little group waiting behind her. "I've gotta get back to the car, and make arrangements to get Bill's car home," she stated, her mind focused on the immediate needs. 'If I just keep focusin' on the mundane, I'll get through this nightmare.'

"We'll help you, honey," Uncle Mark replied, his voice gruff from his own emotions. "That's why we're here."

"I called them, Cat," David added. "I felt that you needed family. Give me a call if you need anything, especially if the media gets too annoying." He embraced her, thinking briefly of the young, enthusiastic reporter he'd known in Terre Haute. He'd not agreed with her reasons for getting out of broadcasting, but respected her decision. He never regretted keeping the friendship going. Somehow, he'd help her through this, if she'd let him.

Cat turned and followed her relatives to their van. The ride back to the parking lot was quiet. No one felt like talking.

The news vans and police cars were gone by the time they arrived at the parking lot. The store was still lit up, and she could see Melissa Johns pacing in the customer area beyond the counter, talking animatedly into her cell phone.

Cat smiled grimly. This would be a test of Johns' ability to handle her position. Bill would never get called out to do her work for her.

She made a move as if to go to the store, but Aunt Brandy stopped her. "Let it go, Cat," she pleaded.

Cat gave her aunt the 'look'. Either David or the chaplain had told of her fight with Johns. She glanced again at the agitated woman, then turned her back on the scene, removing the key to Bill's car from her keyring. She handed the key to Uncle Mark. "I'll drive the _MF6_ home, one of you can follow me."

She climbed into the Cruiser and started the ignition. She waited for Aunt Brandy to adjust the Hyundai's seat and get situated, then pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home.

The drive was quiet. She didn't feel like listening to anything the radio had to offer. Nor was she up to playing a CD or tape. Her mind was racing over the immediate things that needed to be done. There were people to call and things to prepare to do the next day. She was driving on automatic pilot and surprised herself when she stopped in her own driveway and Aunt Brandy pulled the Hyundai next to her.

She unlocked the front door and greeted the cats as if everything was normal. She put her keys on the hook where they belonged and went to the phone.

Despite the late hour, she needed to call her father and Bill's parents, She didn't want either of them read the news on the internet – or in her father's case - hear it through the media or read it in the city paper.

"Yallo?" answered her father's sleepy voice.

"Hi, Daddy. Sorry to call you this early – or late. It's Bill. He's gone Home."

Uncle Mark winced at her directness, even though she'd softened the bad news. 'Guess there's no way to really soft pedal something like that,' he thought, holding his wife close.

"What happened?" her father was wide awake.

She quickly filled her father in on the details, leaving out the more descriptive narrative for a

later time. "I didn't want you to read this in the paper, Daddy," she added.

"I appreciate that, kitten. Do you need me to come up later today?"

"No. I have to work out the arrangements. Stay put, and if you'll call the rest of the Marshall clan, that'd be a big help. I'll handle calling Mama and Dad and Mother's folks."

"Are you alone?"

"No, Uncle Mark and Aunt Brandy are here."

"Let me talk to Uncle Mark, then. Love you, kitten."

"Love you, Daddy." She handed the phone to her uncle and went into the kitchen to start the coffee pot. It was going to be a long night, and caffeine was in order.

"Honey, sit down. I can do that," Aunt Brandy said, coming up behind Cat to embrace her.

"It's already set it up," Cat replied, briefly returning the embrace.

"Want us to call William and Ana?"

"No, if you'll tell your son, that'll help. I have to be the one to do this."

She poured three cups of coffee, and handed the creamer to her aunt. She returned to the living room, where Uncle Mark was finishing up with her father.

"We'll keep you posted," her uncle-in-law said, ending the call.

"You two have a nice confab?" Cat inquired, setting the filled cup in front of him. "I hope he didn't give you too many things to do where I'm concerned."

He smiled wanly at her. "How'd you know?"

"I know my father. It's how he copes." She picked up the phone and pressed the speed dial to her husband's parents in Texas. Though it was late, her father-in-law was still awake.

"You'd better wake up Mama, she needs to hear this, too, and I'm not up to repeatin' myself tonight," she said after greeting him. She waited a moment, then heard her mother-in-law pick up on the extension.

"Hi, honey. We're both here. What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and carefully explained the reason behind her late night call. There was silence on the other end of the line when she finished, then her mother-in-law sighed softly.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm coping. Uncle Mark and Aunt Brandy are with me. I suspect they're staying overnight. I'll be talking to the funeral home later today, and will call you once things are finalized. The service won't be 'til late in the week to give you time to get up here."

"We'll call Cissy and let her know, so you don't have to worry about that. Try to get some sleep, honey," Mama McLaughlin replied. "We love you."

"Love you, too." She replaced the phone on the charger and sat at the dining room table, listening to her aunt and uncle murmur in the living room.

The cats sensed something was wrong, and wound their bodies around her legs, purring in comfort. They were confused by the presence of the relatives so late at night, and no sign of their 'cat daddy'.

"I'm gonna work in the office for a bit, make up a list of stuff to take care of. Y'all are welcome to the guest room, the bed's made up."

"Can't this wait until morning?" Aunt Brandy asked.

"No. I need to do something. If I go to bed, it's not gonna do any good. It's better if I stay busy for awhile. It's how _I _cope," she replied.

Her aunt understood and patted Cat's shoulder. "We'll be in the living room for awhile if you need us."

She searched through the file cabinet for the 'just in case' folder, where her's and Bill's final wishes were kept. It was a document they updated every anniversary.

Bill had carefully written out a guide to help her make decisions, including the funeral home to use, what kind of music to play, who to contact within the Reserve Officers Association, and other matters that she needed to know 'just in case' the worst happened. She'd made a similar document for Bill. 'He'll never have to worry about it now', she thought sadly.

She made up a computer file with the names, addresses, and telephone numbers of people and places that would need to be contacted, and printed three copies. One she folded and put in her back pocket, the other two were intended for her aunt and uncle.

She wrote up an obituary to turn in to the newspaper and the funeral home, and selected a picture to go with it. Picking a picture was no easier than writing the notice. She briefly considered using his favorite; a picture commerating his opportunity to touch the Indianapolis NFL franchise's Super Bowl trophy. That same picture was his avatar on Facebook.

She opted to use her favorite picture, which was a profile shot similar to what many movie actors used. He held his chin on his closed fist, looking up slightly into the camera. His smile was warm and his eyes danced with vitality. His wedding ring glinted in the light from the flash.

She sorted through the various computer files of digital pictures, selecting several to print

later. Those would be displayed at the memorial service. Each picture brought back bittersweet memories. Several conventional pictures from their wedding album and other photo albums were marked for use as well.

Once she could no longer endure looking at the pictures, Cat went to her Facebook page and posted on her update status: _"Cat McLaughlin. . .is in mourning. Yes, the news __you either read in the paper, heard on the radio, or saw on teevee is true. Bill was killed at work last night. I'm coping, his parents and my __father know. Our uncle and aunt are with me. Please know I love you, but if I'm not online for awhile, it's nothing personal. Please watch our pages for updates." _

She copied the posting and pasted it on Bill's page. They didn't share all the same friends on Facebook, and she didn't want to leave anyone out of the notifications. Most of their Facebook friends were also on their email lists, so she didn't have to duplicate the message in email. She did copy and paste it on the message board they belonged to, trusting that group would pass the word, and to the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler email loop.

Then she called her employer's attendance line. "This is Cat McLaughlin. If you've been anywhere near print and broadcast media, you know my husband was killed last night. I am invoking funeral leave for the next five work days. If you need me, call my cell, the house, or email me." she left the necessary phone numbers and email address.

When she'd picked up the receiver, the stuttering dial tone advised her of voice mail messages. She pressed the access code and listened as the message center announced that one new message.

She listened to the message for five seconds, then erased it. 'Damn it to Hell! Trust her to take an event like this to spew her garbage!' She checked the caller ID, noting that the telephone number that matched the time stamp was listed as a payphone. 'Shit! She walked in the dark to make that call just to get around the call block!'

She didn't know whether to be proud of her mother's ingenuity, or sick to her stomach by the foul words the woman's chronic paranoid schizophrenia had wrought. 'It figures I'd get this bullshit instead of sincere condolences and an offer of help. Even words of love would've been welcome You'd think I'd be used to this shit by now,' she scolded herself.

She left the computer logged on and powered up, in case Uncle Mark wanted to use it, and left the office. Her aunt and uncle had gone on to bed. The coffee pot was washed and set up for the next morning.

She rinsed out her coffee cup and left the copies of the 'to do' list on the counter, along with a note for them, then trudged wearily to the bedroom. The cats had given up on her hours earlier, and were curled up on Bill's side of the bed. The youngest cat, Misty, was curled up in Bill's shirt.

She was too tired to undress. She kicked off her sneaks, removed her glasses, and lay down. The cats moved to her side, pressing against her, purring loudly and nudging her hands for petting. She stroked their fur as the tears she'd denied slid down her cheeks.

Misty crept onto her chest, licking the salty tears, and Cat couldn't take it anymore. She rolled over, sending Misty and the others scurrying for safety and buried her face in Bill's shirt, sobbing herself to sleep.

Reliving that awful night was difficult. 'The pain doesn't go away with time. It's like a scab. No matter how hard the scab is, it still hurts like Hell to reopen it,' she thought tiredly.

"Bill and I agree on one thing about you," Alex remarked, knowing how difficult this was for her and wanting to lighten things up a little. "Whenever you get mad, you're more than 'cute', you're downright desirable!" He clasped her hand in both of his; it was cold and trembling. "You mentioned a 'just in case' folder. Do you still keep one?"

"The original one. Haven't gotten around to updating it. That's something I need to do for you. It's in a folder in the file cabinet in the computer room. I'll take care of it tonight."

He squeezed her hand appreciatively. "I was thinking along the same lines, babe. We'll both write one out. I'm also going to arrange a meeting with Rosen at the earliest opportunity."

She nodded, took a bite of her scone and washed it down with coffee. Misty sniffed at a crumb of scone, licked it, and batted it around the bed like a toy. "Don't recall asking your opinion of my baking, Misty. People don't like catnip scones!"

Alex smiled at the way she teased the little cat. 'I'm sorry to do this to you, baby. There's things I've gotta know, and you've gotta get this out of you.' He wished he could let her edit some things out, but that wasn't possible. He needed to hear it all. "I remember when you called Rev. Marshall when your mom died. You called it 'going home' then, too."

She smiled wanly. "Back when there was only one version of Star Trek, we watched as a family, and the running joke was whether Dr. McCoy would say something was dead. The classic line was 'He/She/It's dead, Jim,' and usually turned up in every episode. Therefore, we used the phrase 'gone Home' when we spoke of someone passing so I wouldn't laugh at an inopportune moment."

Otto was fascinated to learn his hostess was a preacher's kid. 'Explains why she's so contrary! But it explains a lot about her caring nature as well. Imagine Tig hooking up with a preacher's kid!'

Alex caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. "It must've been rough having your Mom turn on you that night."

She nodded. "Thing is, love, she doted on Bill when we were first married. He'd take her to the store or the library or anyplace else she wanted to go every week; he did odd jobs for her whenever she needed it. We paid for her to move from a high-crime area to a better neighborhood, and always had her over for holidays. Things would be fine between us until she'd go off her meds. All her parnoid hate and anger would target me, and we'd have to distance ourselves from her, sometimes for years at at time!" She sipped some more coffee before softly adding, "We were into the third year of separation from her when Bill died."

"Did she hear about his death on the news?" Alex asked.

"About the robbery, yes. Her first call was right after the 11pm news, when we were still at the video store. I'll never forget her exact words: 'I hope he dies!'."

He winced in sympathy. "I'm sorry to make you relive that, baby. "

She took another swallow of coffee and leaned back against the pillows, her mind bringing her back to the day after Bill died. "It's OK, love. You had no way of knowin' what transpired. When you're in a living nightmare, you wonder if it can get any worse. You hope it doesn't, but it always does."

* * *

She only got a few hours' sleep. Her aunt and uncle had thoughtfully unplugged all the phones, but no one had turned off the alarm clock. It went off at it's usual time. She wearily sat up and shook her head, wishing that she'd only dreamed of the previous hours events. One look at the swelling and bruises on her right knuckles proved it had not been a dream.

She showered and put on clean clothes before shuffling into the kitchen. Her nose led her to the fresh pot of coffee Aunt Brandy had made. Though her stomach pouch complained it was empty, the thought of food made her nauseous.

She poured coffee and creamer into the cup she'd used earlier and ventured into the living room. Uncle Mark was in the office, talking on the phone. Aunt Sandy was working on her laptop.

"Hey," Cat said, curling up on the sofa next to her aunt. The television was off, which was a blessing. She didn't want to see the TV news.

"Good morning," Aunt Brandy replied. "I heard your alarm go off. We thought we shut off everything."

"It's OK. I needed to get up anyway. Too much to do." She sipped coffee while Aunt Brandy tapped the keyboard. "What's been goin' on?"

"Lots of calls coming in. Thanks for leaving out the email passwords. I've been answering emails all morning for you. I've saved them all for you to read at your leisure."

"Thanks, Aunt Brandy. I gotta call Mama and Dad back. Bill wanted to be cremated, and I'd rather iron this out with them before meeting with the funeral home."

"They were able to reach Cissy. She called her girls. Your father was able to reach your step-brothers. Danny is on his way back, but your other step-brother is too sick to travel. Your Dad said he'd talk to your step-mother later, but he doubts she'll make the trip."

Cat nodded, making notes on the legal pad she'd lifted from the dining room table. "I wouldn't expect her to. Traveling is hard on her these days. The cats get fed?"

"Uncle Mark left the bedroom door open a crack, so they came and woke us up, very insistent that they get their breakfast. Ebony can be _very_ persuasive when he stands on one, can't he?"

"I've found that a 20 pound feline on the bladder can be quite an effective wake-up tool," she grinned.

"Try an 80 pound dog sometime," Aunt Brandy smiled in response.

She called her in-laws and discussed Bill's final wishes with them. "He wanted to be cremated, and I'm ok with that. I wasn't sure if you wanted to see him before it's done."

"We talked about it last night, honey," Ana replied, her voice thick with grief. "We want to remember Bill as he lived, not the shell. We're still coming up, as soon as we can get a flight in, but if that's what he wanted, you go ahead and do what he asked."

Cat's next call was to the funeral home to set up a meeting with the director for later in the day. She called the minister at their church and asked for an appointment to discuss the service. "I've got some time this afternoon. What time is your meeting with the funeral director?" Cat told him, and he assured her he'd be there so they could work things out at the same time.

Aunt Brandy refilled her coffee cup. "Some reporters have called along with several family members. Did you get everything ironed out?"

"Yeah," she replied quietly. "Could you drive me to the funeral home? I'm not so sure it's a good idea for me to drive right now."

Aunt Brandy nodded. Cat stood up, her legs a little unsteady. "I'm going to put together an outfit for him to be cremated in. I'll be ready in a bit."

She walked into the bedroom and rummaged in the closet before selecting Bill's favorite shirt - the only one she'd absolutely hated - a pair of his comfortable jeans, socks, underwear and his sneakers. She added his wedding ring to the carry bag and returned to the living room.

Uncle Mark had gotten away from the phone for a bit, and was standing with his wife. They gazed worriedly at Cat, she was pale and quiet. "Everything all right, Cat?" he asked. "Do you want me to deal with the life insurance carrier with the Army and his work?"

She nodded, finding it difficult to speak. She didn't want to know, but she had to ask about her mother. "Has she called?"

He grimaced. "Yes, unfortunately. The number wasn't blocked and she got through."

"She's callin' from a payphone. I tried to block it last night. Guess I'll try callin' the caseworker and see if they'll do anything."

"I can do that for you," he offered.

Cat shook her head. "Thanks, but I have to be the one to do it. Sometimes they refuse to deal with me, and I'm her only daughter. It'll give me somethin' to do on the way to the funeral home. Could you also call the liability carrier for the chain about a claim? Might as well get that started, too."

Uncle Mark nodded and returned to the office. The women took the McLaughlin's van to the funeral home. All Cat really wanted to do was lay her head back against the seat, but she had to deal with her mother's case worker. She scrolled through the stored numbers on her cell until she came to the caseworker's and pressed the 'call' button.

"Community Mental Health, this is Tasha speaking," came a cheery voice over the cell.

"Cat McLaughlin calling. My husband was killed last night. Mother is taking advantage of that and using payphones in her area to call and make unkind, unneeded comments. I need you to put a stop to it." Cat spoke in a brisk, matter-of-fact manner. It was a technique she'd developed with the case worker over the years.

"We've talked about this before, Mrs. McLauglin. We can't make your mother do anything."

She raised her eyes to the heavens. Same old bullshit! "Look, with her brother taking himself out of the picture, she's focused all her paranoia on me. I would think it would concern all y'all that she ventured out in the dark last night to leave a nasty message for me from a payphone. It should also concern you that she would call again today and give my husband's uncle unholy Hell!"

"Do you have proof that she called?"

"You know the only proof is the caller id and the phone messages and Uncle Mark's word."

"And _you_ know that doesn't suffice. I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. McLaughlin, but we have to think of your mother's best interests. For us to accuse her of something that may or may not be true would hinder her recovery."

"I don't see any recovery takin' place, that's the problem!" Cat replied. "I'm puttin' ya on notice that if she shows up at the funeral, I _will _have her removed and I'll do everything possible to have her charged with harrassment, trespassin', or whatever it takes to have the cops take her away. I would suggest you check on her right away." She turned off the phone and covered her eyes with both hands. The migraine was knocking on the door of her brain.

"That didn't sound very productive," Aunt Brandy observed.

"It wasn't. It's like going to the doctor and telling him it hurts when you move a certain way and he responds 'Then don't move that way'!"

"Do you think she'll show up and make a scene?"

"Do brown and black bears take a dump in the woods? Of course she will. Especially if she thinks that Daddy will be there."

Aunt Brandy grimaced at the response, trying not to laugh at her neice's dry humor. "I'm sorry, honey, I don't want to laugh at you."

"Who says I'm laughing?" Cat smiled grimly. "You can count on her causin' trouble as one can count on Death and taxes."

They arrived at the funeral home, and Cat mentioned her concern to the funeral home director.

"We'll let the motorcycle escort know to watch for her, it'll help if you have a picture of her," he assured her.

"I don't have a real recent one, the last one I have is about 10 years old or so, but it should suffice, I hope," she replied, handing over the carry bag containing Bill's clothing. "I wanted him to have something to wear besides a sheet when he's creamated."

The funeral director accepted the bag, handing it off to one of the employees. He led Cat and her aunt to an office, where they waited for the minister.

Cat and the director discussed the pre-service music. "Bill wasn't a super religious person, so I'm going to make a music tape. He liked all kinds of music, and that's what I'd like to have played in the background. Some of it will be in other languages, but it'll be tasteful."

"Whatever you want to do, Mrs. McLaughlin, within reason, of course."

The United Methodist minister arrived and apologized for being a bit late.

"We've certainly had our share of late arrivals to church services," Cat replied with a wan smile.

They discussed the memorial service. The minister would read Bill's favorite Bible passage, then give an eulogy. The majority of the service would be given to those wanting to share memories of Bill's life. Cat would be the last speaker.

There would be honorary pallbearers, Bill had written out who he wanted, and they would escort the funeral director and the urn from the parlor. "Only half of the ashes will be buried, that's why I'm purchasin' more than one urn. One is for his mother to have, the other is for the burial. I know it's unusual, but that's why we purchased the plots in the first place."

He nodded, making notes in the file.

Cat handed over copies of the obituary she wrote for Bill to the minister and the funeral director. "Sorry if I'm stompin' on anyone's turf, I worked for a small town newspaper and writin' obituaries was one my assignments."

The men reviewed the passage and nodded in approval. It was well-written but concise. The funeral director noted her request that in lieu of flowers, donations should go to the Southside Animal Shelter, the church's building fund, and/or the Salvation Army so the envelopes could be made available.

"We appreciate you thinking of our fund," the minister added.

"I know times have been hard, and every little bit helps," she replied. She also described how she wanted to place pictures of Bill around the room, including a collage that could be placed on a stand near the urn.

"We could put together a DVD of the pictures if you'd prefer," the director explained.

She shook her head. "No, I want people to feel free to roam and talk. Showing a DVD would make people feel like they have to sit and watch."

The employee who'd taken the carrybag from his boss knocked at the door to the office. He beckoned him to enter. There was a whispered conversation, and the employee handed something to the director before quietly departing. "I'm afraid that we're unable to creamate your husband's wedding ring," he informed her, passing it to her.

She accepted it, holding it in her palm for a moment, before her hand closed over it. "I'm sorry."

"Not a problem, Mrs. McLaughlin. Some women wear the ring on a chain, others have it buried with their husband. If you wish to have it buried with the ashes, we can add it before the burial takes place."

She nodded. "I'll think on it."

The director showed her and Aunt Brandy to the showroom, where she looked over the various urns on display. There were all shapes, sizes, and colors to choose from. Cat saw the one she wanted right away. It was simple and elegant, colored in black, with silver around the rim and on the top. She chose a smaller version of the same urn for Mama Ana.

Black, silver, cream, and crimson had been their wedding colors. At least she'd matched two of the colors. Maybe the pedestal for the urn could be covered in cream and crimson. She made that request when she filled out the order.

With the purchase of the urns, and signing the release for Bill's body, the planning session was over. The church would hold a dinner for the family and friends that attended, as part of their outreach. The service would be held at three in the afternoon that Friday.

All that was left to do was to go home and deal with the fact that her life was forever altered, and not for the better. She already felt that a part of her was missing, and would remain empty for the rest of her life.

Were it not for the cats, she wondered if she'd _want_ to go on. Fortunately, the cats needed her as much as she needed them. 'Besides, Bill wouldn't want you to lose the depression battle. You've fought it for years, and you sure as Hell don't want to be a carbon copy of Mother!'

After the meeting with the funeral director and minister, Cat sent her relatives home for awhile. "Y'all have been great, helping out like this, but your puppies need you, and I'm gonna have to get used to being with just the kitties anyway."

"Are you sure? One of us can come back later if you want," her uncle replied.

"I'm sure. I'll be fine. If I need anything, I'll call."

They were reluctant about leaving her, but they also needed to check in on Grandma, who lived next door to them. He handed over the list of phone messages and other items he'd handled in their absence.

"There's a message from Bill's boss, you might want to return that call first," he informed her.

They embraced her and reluctantly left the house after she promised again to call if she needed anything, no matter what time it was.

She settled in the office, dialed the number to the chain's corporate office, and gave her name to the receptionist to the receptionist. After a brief wait on hold, the owner, Raj, came on the line.

"Hi, Cat," Bill's employer greeted her. "I'm sorry for what happened, and that Melissa made an ass of herself."

"It's OK, Raj. I take it she complained loud and long."

"She woke me from a sound sleep last night, bitching about you. Did you really hit her so hard that she landed on her ass?"

Cat smiled grimly. "I have the bruises on my knuckles to prove it. But I suspect you have more on your mind than discussin' my fightin' skills."

"She wanted us to disallow your claim against our liability insurance for Bill's injury. I told her that wasn't going to happen and gave her Hell for withholding evidence. Then I heard this morning that he'd died. There's a double benefit if an employee is killed on the job."

Cat was speechless. She shouldn't be surprised over Melissa's pettiness, but she was. 'Bill's body couldn't have been cold when she called Raj!'

"Cat, you still there?"

"Yeah," she replied, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Truth be told. I'd rather have Bill than the money." She could hear Raj breathing, but he didn't respond to her statement. "Sorry, Raj. I didn't mean to harpoon you."

"I was trying to figure out how to tell you this without causing more pain. Bill and I disagreed on this, and now I think he was right. Hindsight, y'know."

"What is it, Raj? If you're afraid I'm gonna reach across the phone and tear your throat out, you're safe. It's a physical impossibility."

"True, but you might still want to tear me a new asshole," he replied quietly.

"Raj, please, just tell me what's on your mind. If you need to confess that it was wrong to give Melissa the promotion, I agree. Feel better?"

Silence again greeted her comment. Finally, Raj replied softly. "I wish it were that easy. Bill was helping me gather evidence that Melissa couldn't do the job. He was always my choice. Melissa was involved with one of my staff, and the affair ended badly. She threatened a suit if she didn't get the position, and my lawyer felt she might win. I increased Bill's pay to compensate for the inconvenience, and didn't tell anybody. He wanted to tell you and I forbid it. I was ready to demote her when this happened."

Cat felt sickened by Raj's confession. Her mind raced over every mean and angry word she'd thrown at Bill about his work in the last few months, her grief magnified it into something worse than it had been. She hated herself. She felt like she'd been punched in the gut by a two ton wrecking ball.

"Cat?"

"I'm here, Raj. Bill was right. Y'all should have told me. It would've made a big difference. It's too late now. I have to go," she replied, surprised that her voice didn't reflect her inner turmoil.

"Call me if you need anything, Cat. I mean it."

"Yeah." She gently returned the receiver to the cradle. She was numb with shock and horror. She should've been told, but she _also _should've trusted Bill enough to accept what he was doing and support him, instead of throwing obstacles in his way!

She slid out of the chair onto the floor, great sobs tearing from her throat as tears of regret and self-loathing poured from her eyes. She stayed that way for some time, ignoring the cats attempts to comfort her with their purrs and affection. When she cried herself out, the self-loathing remained.

She got up, went into the kitchen and fed the cats, but she wasn't really thinking about them. She was filled with pain and wanted to numb all feeling. She'd quit drinking after the surgery, she couldn't handle the sugar and it didn't take much to make her drunk.

'I wanna get so lit that I don't feel anything!' There was an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels Black Label under the sink. It'd been given to them some time ago, and Bill had put it away. He didn't like whiskey and she was loathe to toss out a perfectly good bottle of booze. That would be her ticket to oblivion. She retrieved it and took it to the bedroom.

She sat on the bed and opened the bottle, taking a long, appreciative sniff. The aroma was just as good as she remembered. She flicked on the TV, looking for something to keep her company beside the felines. But every channel revealed either reruns or stuff that was to stupid to endure.

It was the down time for all her favorite sports teams, so no Cubs baseball, Bears football, or IU basketball. The music video channels annoyed her, and her favorite soap opera didn't appeal to her, despite the allure of 'The Great Victor Newman'. The movie channels were bereft of any of her favorites, including Harrison Ford, Kim Coates, and Gerard Butler. 'Damn! Springsteen was right! 'More than 57 channels and nothin' on'!"

She finally turned to the satellite radio channels and settled for the classical station. She'd worked the classical music program at the student operated radio station at Vincennes every Sunday night. Now it comforted her as no other music could.

She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a sip, reminding herelf not to drink too much too fast. The 'funnel effect' caused by her pouch would send the liquid right back up, and that would _not _be satisfying. The amber coloured liquor slid down her throat, and she welcomed it like an old, long-lost friend. Her chilled insides felt a little warmer, and she immediately felt a buzz.

'It's still gonna take awhile to get properly lit,' she thought, taking another careful sip. She got up long enough to turn on the bathroom light, just in case the alcohol caused a dumping episode and she needed to move fast. Then she returned to the bed, throwing Bill's shirt over her shoulder where she could inhale his scent and took another sip.

'I always prided myself on being different from Mother. Swore I'd never give my husband the grief over work like she used to give Daddy.'

She mentally compared all the fights she'd had with Bill over his work to her Mother's rants over the church. In her grief and guilt, she could see no difference, but her soul didn't want to accept that she'd fallen as low as her mother. "Daddy tried his best to balance his calling and family. At least it was just one or two churches, not a whole slew of stores like the video chain!"

She'd grown up knowing her father couldn't attend every basketball and volleyball game, musical, chorus recital, play, and the like. Sometimes emergencies came up, and he had to miss out on a planned family outing. That was when her Mother would pitch a major fit over the missed opportunity. Cat had accepted it as par for the course, so why had she given Bill so much shit?

"Because you're as much of a selfish asshole as she is!" she answered herself. "That's all there is to it. Maybe you need to let her live here with you after all!"

The idea was so repellent that she tipped the bottle and chugged a large swallow. Her pouch rebelled, and she ran to the bathroom, getting to the sink just in time to let the liquor gush out her mouth and down the drain. "Shit! Waste of perfectly good booze!"

The buzz was still present, so if slow and steady was the only way to get 'comfortably numb' then so be it. She returned to the bed and got comfortable. She continued sipping until she was more than lit. further than 'comfortably numb', and well past drunk. By the time she finished the bottle, she was unconscious.

Tears trickled down Cat's face from the remembered guilt and shame that tortured her after that phone call. "After Raj told me what was really goin' on, I hated myself for puttin' Bill through Hell. I was _supposed_ to be on his side and supportin' him instead of adding to his burden!"

Alex reached out to brush her tears away. "You didn't know the whole situation, baby. From what you say, he apparently understood that."

She shook her head angrily. "That's not the point! I _never_ should've nagged Bill over somethin' he had no control over! If he'd been a lazy bum and not willin' to work then he would've deserved gettin' bitched at. He didn't deserve what he got from me at all!"

'That must be why you've never given me shit about the Club,' he thought. It hurt to know he was opening old wounds. 'That's why she didn't want to tell me her feelings about our arrest! I can understand that, but her reaction to the home burglary still doesn't make sense!'

Oblivious to his consternation, she took a deep breath and petted Misty. "Had it not been for that good, old, friendly bottle of Jack, I wouldn't have survived the night," she continued. "It got me 'comfortably numb' and enabled me to live to see the next day and get some much needed help from a real _live_ friend."

"Ding, dong! _Ding! Dong!_ DING! DONG!" the noise of the doorbell grew louder and more annoying as it brought her back from the land of numb. The sound of the bell pounded in time with her headache. Her mouth tasted like the bottom of an unscooped cat box.

"Go 'way!" she muttered, burrowing her head under a pile of pillows.

"Ding! Dong! Answer! Me! DING! DONG!"

'Fucktard!' she thought, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I can be stubborn, too!" she shouted, though it was muffled by the pillows. "Go away!"

"NO! WAY! Answer! The! Door! Now!" the doorbell was making itself heard. "Open! Up!"

"Fuck! Off!" She hollered again. "Shit!" She couldn't breathe and threw the pillows off her head. She sat up and wished she hadn't, as her pouch complained bitterly. Seconds later, she fled to the bathroom, as the sugar overload caused a major and very painful dumping incident.

"If I'm busy in here, that asshole will give up and go away," she murmured to the cats, who looked at her like something they'd yakked up. She held the trash can in front of her, paying homage to the great god Ralph as the remants of the previous night's binge made its' unpleasant journey back the way it'd pleasureably gone down.

"DING! DONG! DING! DONG! DING! DONG!" The doorbell was being _very_ insistent and repeating itself rapidly.

The last spasm shuddered its' way through her, and she cleaned up after herself. Her head was pounding like a Peter Criss drum solo. She washed down some aspirin, then swished some mouthwash around in her mouth to get rid of the nasty taste.

"I'M! NOT! GOING! AWAY!"

"All right, motherfucker! I'm coming!" she screamed, storming through the house, sending cats scurrying out of her way for cover. She unlocked the door and squinted into the sunlight; she couldn't make out who was insistently leaning on the doorbell. "What part of not gettin' an answer don't y'all understand?" she growled, shading her eyes against the glare of the sun.

"If you'd answer either of your phones, chick, you'd know who was ringing your bell!" June exclaimed, pushing past her. She carried her knitting bag and a suitcase, along with the newspaper and the mail. "Nice to see you, by the way. You look like shit."

"I feel like it. Nice to see you, but how in Hell did you get here?"

"Duh! Rental car from the airport! I got one when you wouldn't answer the phone. It made sense just to get my own wheels and drive out than have the kid haul ass from Bloomington."

June walked through the house and dumped her bags in the guestroom, then returned to the living room. Cat was still standing in the foyer, her mouth wide open.

"What? No hello? No coffee? Damn, girl! You're slipping!"

"I'm hung," Cat replied.

"That explains your lack of manners to someone who's flown over a thousand miles!" June strode into the kitchen, washed out the coffeepot and started a fresh one brewing.

The cats meowed at her, running to their empty bowls and back again. "I know, babies. It's hard to hire good help these days. I'll feed you in a minute."

She walked over to her friend and enfolded Cat in a hug. "Yes, I'm real, not some alcohol induced dream, chick." She stepped back from the hug, her nose wrinkling. "Phew! You smell like a distillery!"

"Guess that's better than shit," Cat replied dryly. "Sorry 'bout the odair."

"Don't worry. It won't send me on a binge," June assured her. "I would've been here sooner, but it takes time to arrange a flight at the last minute. I started working on it as soon as I read your Facebook page."

"You didn't have to come, but I'm damn glad you're here," her calm facade crumpled as she cried, "Oh, June, I fucked up royally!"

"We'll talk about it, chick. First things first. Come with me." June grabbed her by the arm and marched Cat back to the bedroom and the master bath. The bottle of Jack stood on the bed table, empty.

"You must've been righteously sick from all that," June observed.

"Very much so. I've got a mother of a headache as well."

June turned on the shower and pointed to it. "Strip. Wash. In that order. I'll set out clean stuff for you. Coffee will be ready when you are. You'll feel better." She closed the door behind her, leaving Cat to follow her orders.

She adjusted the water to the temp she preferred turned on the exhuast fan, peeled out of her clothes and stepped under the running water. June was right. She was beinning to feel better.

She was felt quite clean by the time the water started to run cold. She dried off and found that the aspirin had also taken the edge off her headache. The thud was just a small drone between her ears. She opened the bathroom door to find clean sox and undergarments waiting for her. 'Good. At least she didn't pick my entire day's wardrobe!'

She dressed in fresh jeans and long sleeved shirt, and felt more like a human being than a garbage disposal. The cats were lying on the bed, sound asleep and purring. The 'dead soldier' was gone from the bedside table, presumably in the trash.

She followed her nose to the kitchen where the freshly brewed coffee was waiting. She poured herself a cup, added cream, and walked into the living room, where June sat on the couch, knitting furiously.

"Feel better?"

"Human. I'm glad you're here, did I tell you that?"

June smiled. "I knew you'd eventually get around to it. Drink your coffee so we can talk."

"Have you always been this bossy?"

"When you need me to be. Drink. It's not Jack Daniels. It's better for you."

"Bitch!" Cat replied good naturedly, sipping the brew.

"Takes one to know one," June retorted, never

dropping a stitch of her knitting.

"Love you, too."

They sat in companionable silence, broken only by the click of June's knitting needles. Cat rose for another cup and carried June's with her to refill both.

"Get something to eat!"

"Yas'm!" Cat replied dutifully, grabbing a box of cereal off the top of the fridge and carrying it under her elbow along with the full cups in her hands.

"That's all you're eating?" June glared at the box. "Dry?"

"Gets too mushy for me with milk," Cat replied, setting the cups down and opening the box. She chomped contentedly on strawberry yogurt oat circles.

"Whatever," June sighed. "What do you mean you fucked up? You obviously didn't hit Bill once too many times with the baseball bat, or you'd be in jail. Talk."

Cat sipped her coffee, momentarily wishing for a stronger type of liquid courage. As if reading her thoughts, June waggled a warning finger at her. "Don't make me use this knitting needle on you. No more Southern, or Jack, or Jim or anything else alcoholic. How'd you fuck up?"

"Remember when Bill presumably lost the promotion to Melissa?"

June nodded. "How can I forget? That was moving week, and you spent half the trip to Florida bitchin' about her lack of competence!"

Cat sipped more coffee, waiting for June to catch the key word in her sentence. It didn't take her long.

"What the Hell do you mean, the promotion he 'presumably' lost? He _was_ passed over wasn't he?"

"That's what I meant about fuckin' up royally, kittenface," Cat told her of the news Raj had shared with her the day before. June's knitting remained in her lap as she listened to the painful narrative. "In the end, kittenface, I'm just like Mother."

"So _that's_ what brought on the binge," June replied. "I didn't think you'd get lit over Bill's death. You're not that weak. I _knew_ it had to be something major!"

"It is. So, I guess you're gonna scramble back to Florida as fast as you can make arrangements for the return trip," Cat murmured. "Wouldn't blame you."

"If you don't shut up, I'm gonna stab you with this knitting needle. It'll hurt you and stain my alpaca yarn!" June was shaking with anger. "Time for you to get off the pity pot!"

Cat shut her eyes, prepared to hear the worst. June had been her best friend for ages, but she knew there was only so much anyone could tolerate, and Cat's behavior to her husband had been abysmal.

"Look at me, Cat. You are _not_ your mother. You know it deep in your heart and you'd accept it if you'd get your head out of your ass long enough! I've seen your mother in action! Raj should've told you, or let Bill tell you what was goin' on. They didn't tell, you didn't know, and you reacted the way anyone would react when the sanctity of their home is threatened! That's not being a paranoid, selfish ass! That's normal!"

June was saying everything that Cat knew to be true intellectually. The guilt and hurt had already eaten away at her confidence, and that tiny little seed of fear of becoming like her mother had grown into a very large and strong oak tree overnight. "How can you be so sure?"

"I've known her half our lives, chick! I've seen her in action and her illness is in my line of work. Like most mentally ill people, she doesn't realize that she causes her own problems; it's always someone else's fault. She's wrapped up in herself because of it. You're the exact opposite. You give of yourself and can easily recognize when you've brought things on yourself."

Cat put up one hand in the classic 'talk to the paw' gesture.

"I'm serious! You love my kid like your own; you fought for Bill and your life together. It's never been about you/you/you! It's always been about us, we, and ours!" June's eyes were blazing with anger at the circumstances that had hurt her friend so deeply and the mental health devil that lurked ever present in her friend's life. "You need to remember that Bill loved you, and he knew _why_ you were raised unholy Hell about the job situation. How many times did we discuss it at cawfee church, anyway?"

It was a rhetorical question. Cat knew she wasn't expected to respond and June didn't give her the opportunity. Like Cat, June had a mighty temper in a small frame, and when riled, that temper was an awesome force of nature.

"We all make mistakes and hurt those who love us, and who we love. How many times have you and I had nasty fights and then come back together? Your mother makes mistakes, doesn't remember them, and doesn't recognize the hurt she inflicts. I only wish I'd gotten here sooner so you wouldn't have learned the truth and gone through this on your own!"

"All you'd have done was watch me get lit and possibly fall off the wagon yourself. Do you think I'd want to be responsible for that, on top of everything else?"

"Think I'd throw away 25 years of sobriety on you? I love you, but not _that_ much! But I would have been here to keep that damn guilt trip from getting out of hand!" June sighed and put down her knitting, taking her friend's hands in hers. "Your devils of self-loathing do this to you every time you lose your temper. It's asinine! You're allowed to be temperamental once in awhile and not fear you're becoming like your Mom! I'm being the supreme bitch right now, do you think I'm ready to go into the rubber room?"

Cat shook her head, her eyes glinting with tears. 'June's right. It's ok to be a bitch at times, as long as you know when to stop. I know when to stop. I'm not nuts; at least not certifiably so!'

June could tell that her impassioned words were sinking in. 'It's abou damn time!'

"I think you just kicked my ass royally between my ears again. Thanks, kittenface. You always come through for me."

June reached out and hugged Cat firecely. "And you always do likewise. Believe me, my training will tell me when it's time to lock you in the padded room and throw away the key. Not to change the subject, but what's on the agenda today?"

Cat sighed, returning the embrace. "You're the best sister of my heart I've ever had, you know that?"

"Ditto, chick. What needs to be done?"

Cat pulled out her list of to-do's which had been ignored over the last few hours of alcohol induced self-pity and handed it to June.

"I take it you've been to the church and funeral home. Did you post the info on line?"

"No, I kinda got sidetracked."

"Then you go post this stuff, and I'll start working on the pictures. When you're done with the postings, you can look for the music you want to use for the visitation and the service."

"Sure thing, boss," Cat replied with a grin.

"By the way, I had a wonderful chat with your mother while you were in the shower. She's pissed that you sicced the caseworker on her. Good for you!"

"Doesn't sound like it did much good," she replied sadly. "Sorry if she gave you trouble."

"Chick, there's nothing she can say to me I haven't already been called. What's that the Bee Gees sang about 'it's only words'?"

"You're datin' yourself with that one, kittenface."

"Only another old broad would know it, chick. You lost your mother years ago to the sickness. What's left isn't really her. I rather enjoyed the battle of wits with her, sharpened my claws."

"You're a bitch, and I love you for it."

"Love you too, now get to postin' so I can get to work."

Cat was laughing when she sat down to the computer and updated the web pages with the updates about the funeral, thanking one and all for the calls and messages of support.

The fan group had sent an email inviting her to a Tart Night Out that evening. June had been a member of the same group before relocating. Cat thought she might enjoy seeing some old friends. "Hey, kittenface! Wanna do a Tart Night Out tonight? The Tarts want to get together to remember Bill."

June walked into the office to look over the email. There wasn't a new Gerry movie out, but the group was interested in doing dinner and Starbucks afterward, a typical TNO. Bill had always gone to those events, even if he had to leave to handle a 'crisis'.

"Critter's on her way up. If she can tag along, I'm game. So long as you stay out of the hard stuff!"

Cat raised her hand in the Girl Scout promise. "I swear, no more liquor for me. The hangover and the dumping aren't worth the buzz."

"Then let them know we're coming. I'll call Critter and let her know we're going out to eat tonight."

Critter was their pet name for June's daughter, Cat's 'unofficial' godchild. Critter had been a part of her life, and vice versa, since the girl was five. Now she was nearing her last year in college studying non profit law.

Cat emailed the Tarts, announcing that June and her daughter would be joining them, accepting the invitation for a TNO. She found herself looking forward to it.

The postings and emails done, Cat retrieved another cuppa. She'd been so busy that she'd forgotten about the headache and it had gone away. She went into the music room and started pouring through their vinyl, cassette, and CD collection, looking for the music she wanted.

One of the tapes she came across was one Bill had made of music he'd suggested for their wedding reception. She thought they'd lost that tape in a move, and had been bitterly upset over the loss. Bill had promised to remake it, but never had the time he felt was adequate to attend to it. The tape was an ecletic mix that included Abba's '_I've Been Waiting for You_''; _Pour Adelaide_ (an instrumental by Richard Clayderman); Paul McCartney and Wings '_Mull of Kintyre_'; Donna Summer's '_State of Independence_'; and a Sarah Vaughn selection, among others. She turned on her stereo, inserted the tape, and hit play.

As soon as _State of Independence_ began, June walked into the music room with wide eyes. "Oh my God! He _finally_ remade it?"

"Nope, this is the original," Cat replied, fresh tears shining in her eyes. "Look at the cassette."

June saw Bill's writing and the date and smiled softly, remembering how people cocked their heads when that particular song began their reception. "You're going to have that play before the memorial, aren't you?"

"Damn straight. Bill always associated that song with me. That's why he started the tape with it. Your favorite is on here, too."

"_One Night in Bangkok_?"

Cat nodded, and that set June to crying. They sat and listened to the entire tape, and worked together on the picture collages.

The doorbell rang as they were finishing up. June went to answer it and ushered her daughter into the house.

"Hi, Mom. Good to see you. How's 'Aunt' Cat?" the young woman was happy to see her mother after months apart and gave her Mom an embrace, but the girl was obviously worried for her 'unofficial' godmother. Ever since she'd read the notice on Facebook, she'd been trying to make contact, and grown concerned when there had been no response.

"See for yourself, kiddo," Cat replied, walking up and enfolding both women in her arms.

"I've been so worried about you!" Critter said, smacking Cat's arm.

"Sorry, Critter. It's been Hell."

The two women shared a significant look, as they knew from experience what it was like to suddenly lose a family member. Cat had been there for them both times during the previous year, now it was their turn to support her.

"Where'd you park?"

"Behind Bill's car. I didn't figure that'd be a problem."

"Good thinking. If we're not careful, people will think I'm opening a used car lot!" Cat grinned, letting her 'little girl' know she'd done the right thing.

Critter got herself settled in the guestroom with her Mom and they visited for a bit, leaving her alone. Feeling a little bad for ignoring the cats, she got out the bottle of _'chat noir' _catnip and sprinkled it liberally on their scratching posts and toy mice, so the trio could enjoy their own buzz.

That night, the girls joined with the Tarts and Tartans fan group for dinner on the far North side of town. They met at a local bar that offered live bands for entertainment. Cat kept her promise and didn't order anything alcholic. Talk was upbeat. They all had fond memories of Bill putting up with Cat's obsession with Gerard Butler.

Their official _'Gerryfest' _group was performing that night, which made their gathering more enjoyable. The group performed '_Galway Girl_' from Gerry's movie 'PS I Love You' especially for them, and at June's request, they performed '_Mull of Kintyre'_ for Cat.

The fangroup welcomed June back to their fold. She had been quite missed since her move, so it was only natural that she share some of her adventures in Sunny Florida.

"Bill would've really enjoyed this," Cat said at one point.

"He certainly loved being the only Tartan amongst all of us Tarts!" June added with a laugh.

"As long as he remembered which Tart was his, I never minded sharing him!"

"And we loved having him with us!" One of the group added.

When they went to Starbucks, everyone got their favorite drink and toasted Bill's memory. A black and silver vase was presented to Cat, then each member placed a black-ribboned rose in the vase, their traditional present to a member who'd lost a loved one.

"It's beautiful, gals, and it's gonna be on display behind the pedestal at the memorial. I'll be sure to get a picture for those of you who can't be there," Cat promised, her eyes misting up at the love and support shown by her friends.

The party broke up soon after the flowers were presented, with hugs going all around. While Critter wasn't a Gerry fan, she was made an honorary Tart due to her devotion to her mother, 'Aunt' Cat, and 'Uncle' Bill.

* * *

"Glad I insisted you remove that vase from storage after we got back from Indiana!" Alex remarked, looking over at the vase sitting on top of the TV. "Their tribute means a lot to you, and those Tarts sound like good friends."

"They are. I'm sorry there wasn't any time for you to meet them when we were there," she replied. "Then again, maybe that's just as well. Your animal magnitism might've been too much for them!"

He preened like a peacock. "What can I say, baby? When you've got it, you've got it!"

She wrinkled her nose as she took another bite of her scone. "Just hope it's not catchin', love!"

Her sharp retort effectively deflated his ego. "Damn evil woman!" He scowled, but she didn't flinch. "What's this damn 'Gerryfest' you mentioned? Sounded like some kind of orgy!"

She favored him with 'the look'. "You _would_ think that! It was a weekend event we put together every year. It originally started as a one day thing that ended with a charity auction and viewing of 'Phantom of the Opera' . It grew into a three night mini-convention."

"Baby, I can see taking three days for a motorcycle swap meet or a patch over. But three days to celebrate one actor? That's obsessed!"

"Hmphf! We didn't spend the entire time droolin' over Gerry! We offered a historical tour of the city, our favorite band would appear, there was a costume and karaoke contest, a fanfiction writers' panel discussion, and usually a trip to Butler University to buy Butler themed items. The weekend always culminated with the dinner, chairty auction and movie. We'd usually raise about two or three grand for the chosen charity each year."

"Did Bill attend? I would think being one of the the only men in a group of rabid Butler fans would be a good thing. Plenty of women to console," he grinned wolfishly.

"No, he always stayed home. Too many women in one place for his taste," she admitted. "He gave us a lot of support by donating DVDs and posters from Gerry's movies for the auction. He knew that while I enjoyed _looking_, my heart and soul belonged to him." She gazed wistfully at Alex, adding, "I wish you didn't feel so threatened by my little 'crushes', love."

"Cause you make it pretty fucking difficult _not_ to feel that way! Especially when you ignore me to flip channels between Butler and that Kim Coates character to watch Goddamn movies you already own!" he growled.

Otto glanced at the framed autographed photos from Gerard Butler, Kim Coates, and Michael Crawford adorning the library walls. There were also photos taken of her being embraced by three of the actors from Star Trek. 'Tig, you have nothing to worry about. I can tell from her tone of voice that you're number one with her. If she had to choose between them and you, you'd win hands down.'

"Honey, if you don't know by now that you have nothin' to worry about, you never will!" Cat replied with a small laugh. "After all, you haven't shared the bedroom with the Phantom and King Leonidas since that first night!"

"When it comes to you and _this_ room, I only share with the cats!"

"You certainly made that clear yesterday!" she retorted. "Sometimes you won't even share with the kitties!" She leaned back and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes against the beginnings of a headache. "After the Tart Night Out, the families descended on the town, and that was the last really good thing that happened before the service."

* * *

Both sides of the McLaughlin – Marshall family converged on Indianapolis the day before the

service. Cat's father and step-brother drove in and would be staying at her step-mother's cousins on the East side of town. Her step-mother couldn't make the trip. William, Ana, and Cissy flew in from Texas and would stay on the West side in a hotel near Uncle Mark and Aunt Brandi. Cissy's little girl was staying at home with her older sisters, who couldn't get more than one day off to attend their uncle's funeral, so they stayed in Texas. Uncle Mark and Aunt Brandi's son, Marcus, had driven up from the Gulf coast, arriving just in the time for the family gathering that evening.

"Good thing we did Tart Night Out last night," June remarked, as more family members continued to check in. "I forgot just how large and blended your family is." June and Critter bowed out of the family dinner, though they were invited. This would be a chance for two two to have a little 'family time' of their own.

The families had dinner that evening at Uncle Mark and Aunt Brandy's home. It was the first time in many years that they'd all been together in the same place, and the house was nearly bursting at the seams. Mama Ana insisted on cooking her specialty, a Korean dish called _bubogli_ (tenderized, marinated beef with rice).

Bill had left a will, and while most everything went to Cat, there were some items, such as his postage stamp collection, that he wanted certain other people to have. Cat discussed his wishes with the family so each recipient could make plans on taking their item back or having it shipped.

"Most of his clothes are going to Goodwill and that kind of thing, unless there's something anyone absolutely wants and/or can wear," she added.

"There's a couple of his Texas t-shirts that I'd like," Marcus replied. "And those ties with all the funny types of designs on them, if that's OK. But are you sure about giving me his class ring?"

She nodded. "You graduated from his high school, who best to have it?" She wrote down everyone's requests on her notepad, promising to bring the smaller items to the dinner the following day.

The evening ended early, as her father was tiring out and she had driven him and her step-brother out to the gathering. As they traveled back to the East side, Danny leaned over the back seat to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Anything you need help with, sis?"

She shook her head. "You've done a lot by bringing Daddy up here, and accepting the role of honorary pallbearer. I know it's kinda weird to be asked to escort an urn to a hearse, but it really means a lot."

"I'm honored that Bill wanted me," he replied softly. "Do you need any help with takin' stuff to the service?"

"Why don't y'all plan on stoppin' by the house tomorrow, and if we need you, you're there, and if not, you'll there to lend moral support?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," he replied, sitting back in his seat.

She dropped them off at the cousins' house, but didn't go in to visit. She wasn't avoiding the cousins, it was just that she had so much that needed to be done to mentally prepare herself for the day to come.

Cat found June and Critter relaxing in the living room on her return to the house. The women had gone out for supper and done a little shopping. Cat didn't feel left out. She was happy that the two had gotten some fun together.

She didn't ask, and knew June wouldn't tell her anyway, whether her mother had made any more calls. She really didn't want to know. There was nothing she could do about it. The police couldn't do much to make her stop, unless Cat filed a restraining order, and she just didn't have time to do so. She figured if she ignored her mother's antics, then the woman would give up and move on to some other kind of mischief.

Cat glared at the phone when it rang, but the caller ID didn't show a payphone. Instead it read the police department's chaplain's office was calling. "Cat McLaughlin here,"

"Mrs McLaughlin, this is Bert Johnson. Did I wake you?"

"No, sir. What can I help you with?"

"I wanted to call to warn you that we're releasing the surveillance footage to the local media, it'll be running on all the newscasts tomorrow. We're releasing the tape in hope it might generate a few leads on your husband's murderer."

Cat rolled her eyes. 'Perfect timing! Run the tape of his death on the day of his funeral! Shit!' She took a deep breath and replied, "I see. Did anyone consider the irony of the day?"

"I'm afraid not, that's why I wanted to call you."

"I wanna see it before the rest of the metro area does. Can I come out there? I know it's late, but I'll be too busy tomorrow."

"I know, Mrs. McLaughlin. I read the announcement in the paper. Do you really feel up to seeing it?"

"If the local newsers are gonna run it, I can watch it," she replied resolutely, staring down June's wordless objections with 'the look'.

"I'll be there in half an hour, if that's OK with you."

"I'll leave the light on for ya," she replied grimly.

"Are you out of your ever lovin' mind?" June screeched. "How can you_ want _to see that?"

"Maybe I _am_ nuts, kittenface," Cat replied quietly, somewhat amused by her friend's choice of words. "But I'm gonna see it anyway. The rest of the damn metro area is gonna get to see it, why should I pass?"

"Girl! Sometimes you take the cake!"

"Yeah, yeah. Talk to the paw! Nobody's askin' you to watch!"

June glared at her, but knew there was no use trying to talk her out of it. "You are one ballsy female."

"Thanks. Coming from you, that's a compliment."

A few minutes later, the doorbell chimed and Cat ushered the chaplain into the house. He had a video tape in a plastic box, holding it as if it were something he'd picked up in a cow pasture.

"Mrs. McLauglin, the tape's pretty graphic. It's not been edited," he warned her.

"I would expect not!" She accepted the tape from him and loaded it in the VCR. She gazed at June, who was sitting on the couch, furiously knitting away. Critter had retired for the evening.

"Last chance, kittenface. You stayin'?"

June nodded, her needles clacking away.

"OK. Here goes." She pushed the play button, and the black screen came to life with black and white, grainy images of the last few minutes of Bill's life.

Had the store not been so busy that night, Bill's killer would've been obvious to spot. Cat smirked when the young adult attempted to enter via the exit door and couldn't get it to budge. He kept pulling on the exit door, but it only opened from the inside. He apparently didn't figure out that he could go out the exit and come back in, choosing instead to wait for someone to pull the exit door open so he could duck inside.

He darted in and out of the camera angle, moving around the aisles as if he was looking for something to rent. He glared repeatedly at the long line of customers waiting to be checked out. Eventually, the line dwindled to three, and he grabbed a box from a shelf and stood behind the last person. He also picked up a package of popcorn.

Bill was checking out customers as quickly as he could while his other employee was putting away tapes and DVDs on the shelves. The robber stepped up to the counter and Bill greeted him, beginning to work the computer to check out his purchses. The robber then pulled out a gun and pointed it at Bill's face.

There was no sound, but Cat could tell that the robber was yelling orders. She felt proud seeing her man quietly and calmly comply with the orders being screamed at him, filling a plastic bag with money from the drawers.

There were five cash registers, two had been in use during the evening. One was locked, and Bill didn't have the key to it. There was a brief discussion, then the gun went off, knocking Bill onto his back.

The robber leaped onto the counter as the employee ran to the back office and slammed the door. Cat knew that was standard procedure, and that the employee would be calling the police, then Melissa.

The robber kicked at the locked drawer, but it wouldn't open. Enraged, he pointed the gun down at Bill and fired repeatedly until he was out of bullets.

Not willing to leave any cash behind, the robber picked up the cash drawer and hurled it at the plate glass window, shattering it. He grabbed the money bag, his video and popcorn and fled to an idling vehicle, throwing the small items in the car then retrieving the cash drawer. The camera wasn't able to get the license plate. All she could tell about the car was that it was a light colored four door sedan. It was impossible to determine the make or model from the side view.

She turned off the tape, rewound it and ejected it from the VCR. She put the tape in the plastic box and handed it to the police chaplain. "I hope y'all catch the fucktard. I can understand one shot, but the whole Goddamn clip?" Her eyes brimmed with tears at the brutality of Bill's killing. Either the robber was doped up, or a gang banger who didn't give a damn. Not that it mattered. Dead was dead, no matter the reason behind the robber's brutality.

"You were right, June. Seeing the tape didn't make me feel any better. The good news is that it doesn't make me feel any worse."

* * *

Cat rose from the bed and stretched. "Pardon me a moment, love. You don't drink coffee, you rent it space."

"I'll get refills," he offered. His head was swimming. 'Her friend is right, takes a lot of balls to watch your husband getting gunned down.'

Otto followed him to the kitchen, where the two men quickly compared notes. "Well, now we know the reason for the guilt. I figure that's why she's never given me shit about the Club," Tig murmured, pouring the last of the coffee into mugs. He reached into the fridge for a Snickers bar as Otto selected a muffin.

"Yeah," Otto replied. "Finding out what Bill was really doing relly tore her up. Especially with the issues she had with her Mother. At least she came out the other side."

"She's a fighter, and that makes her relocating over a home invasion burglary not make sense." Tig added. "Hell, when she was putting the coffeehouse together, she stalked across the street to confront me for sitting out front and watching for awhile! She looked like she was going to take me on."

"What'd you do?"

"Took off and left her standing in the middle of the street. Didn't need a major scene on Main Street."

Otto grinned at the mental image of Tig fleeing from a determined Cat.

"Not that I'm complaining about the end result," Tig continued. "I just hate putting her through this!"

"I know, brother. But you've taken her this far, might as well keep going. It's probably going to do her some good to get it out. We have plenty of time to let her recover before the service."

"I guess you're right. Tell you the truth, I'm learning things about her I didn't know before."

"One thing you need to learn, Tig. You're no match for those actors. All women have their cinematic crushes. LuAnn had 'em. I was fortunate that none of them were porn actors, though I had my moments with some of the ones she worked with!"

They returned to their respective rooms. Cat grinned at the sight of a Snicker bar in Alex's hand. "You're gonna turn into one of those if you're not careful, love."

He shrugged and bit into the candy, chewing contentedly. "That's the last of the coffee, babe. At least for the moment. Another pot's brewing. Figured Otto would like some more."

"He's not bored by bein' left alone, is he?"

Alex nearly choked. "Nah. He's relishing the private time. He won't be getting much of that after today."

Otto was sitting in the rocker in the library, and grinned at Tig's quick recovery. 'I'm definitely not bored!"

Cat stared intently at Alex, wondering why her mention of Otto made him choke on his candy. She shrugged and curled up on the bed. "I've always said that weddings and funerals bring out the worst in people, and I wasn't wrong about this one."

* * *

The day of the service was sunny and warm. Cat was relieved that the weather wasn't going to contribute dreariness to the day's events. The service itself was going to be difficult enough. A gray and rainy day would've made things worse.

With June's help, Cat had come to terms with the fights she'd had with Bill about the job. She realized Bill had never fought back in their verbal clashes because he knew where her heart and mind was in all the disagreements. June had also helped Cat to realize that her anger had been directed more at the situation, and not at Bill, while her mother's tantrums had been motivated by self indulgence.

Though she still felt bad about the fights, she accepted that Bill had tolerated them because he loved her. She knew she would carry the sadness and some guilt for her actions for the rest of her life.

She dressed that day in black velvet pants, black dress shoes and a black satin top with a sewn-on gold metallic vest. She wore the pearls Bill had given her for their wedding, her wedding ring and a watch. Bill's wedding ring hung on a golden chain around her neck, but the ring itself rested inside her shirt, next to her heart.

Cat didn't like purses. As a rule, she felt that if her pockets couldn't carry what she needed, she didn't need to take it. She made an exception for the day, loading her wallet, cell, keys, a comb and her sunglasses in a small black shoulder purse. She also tucked a couple of packages of tissues, just in case.

She also needed the purse to carry her small pocket tape player and a black ribboned rose with a blue topaz stone. She planned to stay behind when everyone else left the cemetery, in order to pay a private tribute to Bill.

Her father and Danny arrived, and helped load her car and June's with the picture collages and other items they were taking. With a two hour visitation scheduled before the service, the three women wanted to get to the funeral home early enough to place the pictures and get things ready.

Cat insisted on driving the '_MF6_', and would drive it in the processional to the cemetery. She didn't like limos. The few times she'd been in one, she'd felt uncomfortable and lost. There was no sense in having someone drive her when she had a perfectly good, working vehicle.

Cat, June, Critter, and Danny got the picture boards set up throughout the room for Bill's service. Despite her request for no flowers, there were a few bouquets from out-of-town family that couldn't get time off. She asked for a flower stand to place the vase of black-ribboned roses behind Bill's urn. The funeral home found a holder that would suffice, and the flowers set off the urn quite nicely.

Cat handed the funeral director the tapes she'd made. One was the wedding music Bill had made for her, the other was selections he'd always played in the car, usually European dance music. She smiled at the thought of people trying to identify "_How Could This Go __Wrong_" when it was sung in German.

William, Ana, and Cissy arrived in one car, just after all the set up was completed. Mama Ana was pleased by the pictorial tribute to Bill, as well as the vase of black-ribboned roses.

Cat hadn't wanted any kind of reception line. She wanted things to be as casual as possible. The whole idea of the visitation was more for people to talk amongst each other and share their memories. As people started to enter the room, they would come up to Cat or to the McLaughlins, and if they weren't quickly remembered, stated who they were and expressed their condolences to the family.

The music she'd prepared on tape played quietly in the background, and she saw several people smile and nod as a particular selection caught their ear and stirred a pleasant memory or two.

Several individuals approached the urn in order to pay their respects to Bill in their own quiet way.

Before the service began, the funeral director met with Cat and the honorary pallbearers. Besides her brother Danny, the pall bearers were Marcus; Bill's best friend Ben Kentson; Cat's cousin Geoff, and their two mutual friends near Raceway Park. The funeral director handed out carnations – Bill's birth month flower - that Cat had purchased.

"When I pick up the urn, you'll form a column, three on each side. Once Mrs. McLaughlin passes you with the vase, you'll follow us out to the hearse, three on each side of the door, until everyone going to the cemetery are in their cars. When we get to the cemetery, you'll line up the same way at the hearse, and follow me to the grave site. At that time, you'll file past the pedestal and may drop your carnation there if you wish."

Cat was still on edge about the possibility of her mother showing up during the service and kept a wary eye on the door. The minister started with prayer, then gave a short eulogy, relying upon the obituary Cat had provided. "We all were touched, in one way or at one time by Bill. Instead of me preaching to you, I'd like to invite any who wish to come forward and share your own memories of Bill."

June was the first to speak, and told how she and Cat had Bill worried about her choice of material for a wedding dress. "Cat had always called Neil Diamond's '_Forever in Blue Jeans_' her theme song, and she always joked about wearing blue jeans for her wedding. Bill was appalled. So, Cat agreed to go with one of those long vests the character 'Maude' wore, in white, naturally, and long pants.

"We always intended to make a traditional type of wedding dress, but Cat enjoyed teasing Bill when he left himself open to it, and we teased him unmercifully about the dress.

"One day, he came home unexpectedly while we were working on the dress, and we had to find a way to cover the real material so he wouldn't see it. I had this black material with swirls of neon color, and we used that as camouflage. Bill walked in to find us spreading pattern pieces on that material. We assured him the dress would work out just fine, and he was very worried."

There were plenty of laughs at that point, as many of those in attendance had been at the wedding and remembered Bill's visible relief when he saw the cream satin covered Cat walking down the aisle on her father's arm.

A steady progression of their friends and family came up to share memories. Cat's father spoke of the time he and his wife had received a visit from Bill during one of his reserve weekends. He drove from Camp Atterbury to their home in order to ask permission to marry Cat, even though they'd already been engaged for some time.

"During his visit, once he'd asked permission, he fell asleep right where he was sitting. He looked like he was watching TV, until his head bobbed and he snored," Rev. Marshall added.

More laughs met that story. Everyone who knew Bill knew how easily he could fall asleep and look like he was attentive to what was going on around him.

Several others came forward to speak. Members of the ROA and friends he'd made through various jobs shared memories, along with a few of the Tarts who spoke about his involvement in the Gerry Butler fan group, and how he was elevated from 'The Reluctant Tartan' to simply 'Bill the Tartan'.

His cousin Marcus came forward to talk about Bill's unique babysitting methods. "Bill would watch me on occasion when the 'rents had a 'date night', and would introduce me to various Korean dishes. I can definitely say today that while I may be studying oceanography, I do _not_ want to share seaweed with the fishies! He fed me so much seaweed I'm surprised I didn't grow gills!"

The current president of the Reserve Officers Association, Indiana Chapter Seven spoke of Bill's support for the group and of his service as a past president, and his former commander at Camp Atterbury also spoke of Bill's service in the Army Reserve.

Eventually, those who wanted to speak had done so. The minister nodded to Cat, who stood up and walked to the lectern.

"Bill and I were good friends long before we figured out there was more to the relationship. We both worked at the same place on the northwest side of town. I had a starter bike at the time, a 250cc, and was running home during lunch when a station wagon sideswiped me on the interstate on ramp. Everyone at work saw the accident. My bike was messed up and had to be towed. I wasn't in much better shape; the sheriff brought me back to work. Through the rest of the day, I worried about getting home, as I didn't have money for a taxi or bus fare. Bill lived a few blocks from me, so he offered to take me home. Our friendship started that day.

Through the years, he was my 'knight in shining armour', always coming to my aid when I needed rescue from some scrape, always an ear to listen to my woes. He saw the best there was in me when others couldn't or wouldn't. I think he had that ability to see the best in many, just by the lives he touched."

She nodded to the funeral director, who beckoned to someone in the office. In seconds, the room was filled with music, and the song '_Because You Loved Me_' by Celine Dion played.

"_For all the times you stood by me_

_For all the truth that you made me see_

_For all the joy you brought to my life_

_For all the wrong that you made right_

_For every dream you made come true_

_For all the love I found in you _

_I'll be forever thankful_

_You're the one who held me up_

_Never let me fall _

_You're the one who saw me through_

_Through it all_

_You were my strength when I was weak_

_You were my voice when I couldn't speak._

_You were my eyes when I couldn't see_

_You saw the best there was in me_

_Lifted me up when I couldn't reach_

_You gave me faith 'cuz you believed_

_I'm everything I am because you loved me_

_You gave me wings and made me fly_

_You touched my hand, I could touch the sky_

_I lost my faith; you gave it back to me_

_You said no star was out of reach_

_You stood by me and I stood tall_

_I had your love, I had it all_

_I'm grateful for each day you gave me_

_Maybe I don't know that much_

_But I know this much is true_

_I was blessed because I was loved by you..._

_You were always there for me _

_The tender wind that carried me_

_A light in the dark _

_Shining your love into my life_

_You've been my inspiration _

_Through the lies you were the truth_

_My world is a better place because of you..._

_I'm everything I am because you loved me." _

"That song best describes what Bill meant to me. He had the strength to allow me my interest in certain actors and not feel threatened. The vase of black ribboned roses are testament to that; a gift from the Gerard Butler Tart and Tartan fan group we belonged to. Not only did he encourage my interests, he participated in them. He was what made Life bearable, and now Life will be a little less enjoyable because he's gone."

She stepped aside to allow the minister to give the benediction, then the funeral director and the honorary pall bearers moved forward. The funeral director took the urn, Cat carried the vase of black ribboned roses behind the funeral director as they left the chapel.

The honorary pall bearers took up their places on either side of the hearse door as the attendees filed out to their cars.

Cat was relieved that her mother hadn't shown up. Bus service was non existent to the funeral home and the church, but she could still show up at the cemetery; there was bus service there. Cat hoped that wouldn't be the case. Most people would be put off by the logistics of such an attempt, but her mother wasn't most people.

The drive to the cemetary was made a little difficult by the lack of courtesy some drivers showed to the procession. One driver actually held up the procession by waiting to make a left turn in front of them, instead of pulling aside and allowing the line of cars with funeral flags and bright lights to pass by!

The hearse pulled to a stop near a small grave. There was the usual tent and chairs set up for the immediate family. A small hole had already been dug, but there was no sign of the grave digger. A pedestal lay over the opening, where the funeral director placed the urn.

Cat placed the vase of black ribboned roses in front of the pedestal. The funeral home employees had brought the floral arrangements for decoration as well as to allow the attendees to select a flower for a keepsake.

The honorary pallbearers waited until the attendees had gathered around the grave site to move from the pedestal, leaving their carnations as tribute.

The minister stepped forward to read the traditional grave site service, pausing to allow the Reserve Officers Association members present to perform their own small part of the ceremony.

Traditionally, when a military person died – whether the deceased was active or retired - their casket was adorned with the US flag. That flag was then cremoniously removed from the casket and folded near the end of the graveside service. With no casket, the ROA president and Camp Atterbury commander presented a pre-folded flag to her and murmured the traditional phrase, "On behalf of a grateful nation." She held the flag to her chest during the benediction.

The minister gave the standard benediction that was very familiar to Cat and the other United Methodists in the gathering. She, her father, and others recited the words with the minister: "May the Lord bless you and keep you, May the Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious until you. May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and bring you peace. Amen."

A lone trumpet played 'Taps'. It was the first time that day that Cat's reserve broke. Tears streamed down her face as the trumpet played, signaling to one and all that another defender of the nation had fallen.

June and Critter were standing behind Cat's chair. When 'Taps' began, both placed a comforting hand on her shoulders, reminding her of their comfort and presence.

After the last note faded, the funeral director stepped forward and announced, "Our service is completed. If you wish to select a flower from the arrangements, except for the black-ribboned roses, feel free to do so."

The minister stepped forward, shaking hands and murmuring words of sympathy to Cat, her father, Bill's parents, his aunt and uncle, cousin, and grandma.

Those who had gathered at the grave site started to return to their cars. Cat remained seated, waiting for everyone to leave so that she could pay a silent tribute to her fallen lover, her best friend, her husband.

"Do you want us to wait with you?" June whispered.

She shook her head. "No, thanks. You and Critter go ahead to the church, let everyone know I'll be there shortly."

"I can wait at the _MF6 _and bring you back to the church, Aunt Cat," Critter offered. She could see how the day was wearing on her 'godmother', and feared that driving might be too much for her.

"It's OK, Sweetie. I'll be fine. Take care of this for me," she replied, handing over the flag to her godchild. "I just need a few minutes alone with Bill. I won't be long, I promise."

The women embraced for a moment, then June and Critter reluctantly left her alone and departed the cemetary. A few attendees who wouldn't be going to the dinner stepped forward to offer their condolences and support before they, too, left her behind.

"Mrs. McLaughlin, everybody's gone now," the funeral director said softly. She nodded and watched as he took the urn from the pedestal and removed the lid. There was a piece of paper spread out on the ground to catch any ashes that might spill. He carefully poured the ashes from the large urn into the smaller one, until he was satisfied they were as evenly divided as he could make them. Not one bit landed on the paper.

He replaced the lid on the large urn, and permanently sealed the smaller one, which he placed in a box and set aside for the moment.

Next, the large urn was permanently sealed and Cat watched as it was lowered into the hole in the ground. She threw a ritual handful of loose dirt over the urn and watched until the worker had completely covered the small grave.

Other workers from the cemetery and funeral home were taking down the chairs and the tent, preparing them for storage until the next time they were needed.

When the grave was covered and the funeral and cemetery workers had departed, Cat knelt next to the mount of freshly moved earth and removed her own black ribboned rose from her purse.

"Well, Pookie, this is it, the final step to letting you go. It's harder than I thought. We were supposed to grow old together, but that's not gonna happen now. I'm sorry for goin' all to pieces when Raj told me the truth. You know if I could go back and change anything, never fussin' about the job would be that thing. But we can't have everything, and you would want me to learn from this.

"I know you're at peace, now I've got to find my own peace. It's not gonna be easy, and it almost seemed like '_There's No Way_' was gonna be my theme song. I can hear you sayin' 'Don't you start,' so I won't. Remember how I first considered that song of Bryan Adams from the movie 'Robin Hood' as 'our song'? I still do. So here it is, one last time."

She withdrew her tape recorder from her purse and turned it on. Bill had never understand why she considered that song much more personal to their relationship than any other, even the Celine Dion tune that came out a few years after their marriage, or any songs that came out before it. To Cat, it just said it all about what Bill meant to her because it covered everything he ever was to her:

"_Look into my eyes – you will see_

_What you mean to me._

_Search your heart- search your soul_

_And when you find me _

_There you'll search no more_

_Don't tell me it's not worth tryin' for_

_You can't tell me it's not worth dyin' for_

_You know it's true_

_Everything I do – I do it for you_

_Look into my heart – you will find_

_There's nothin' there to hide_

_Take me as I am – take my life_

_I would give it all – I would sacrifice_

_Don't tell me it's not worth fightin' for_

_I can't help it – there's nothin' I want more _

_You know it's true_

_Everything I do – I do it for you. _

_There's no love – like your love _

_And no other – could give more love _

_There' snowhere – unless you're there _

_All the time – all the way_

_Oh – you can't tell me it's not worth tryin' for_

_I can't help it – there's nothin' I want more _

_I would fight for you _

_I'd lie for you _

_Walk the wire for you _

_Yeah I'd die for you_

_You know it's true_

_Everything I do _

_I do it for you." _

She removed the tape and stuck it through the fresh mound of dirt, not caring that it would deteriorate in time. It and the black ribboned rose were the last gifts she could give him. She kissed the rose and stuck it in front of the marker that had been placed on his grave. It was a small gray piece of limestone carved with his name, birth date and place and date of death and place.

"See ya when I see ya, Pookie. Take care of the furbabies that crossed the Rainbow Bridge before you. I know you'll be watchin' out for me and will try not to wear you out."

She rose to her feet, turned and walked back to the '_MF6_'. The funeral director had placed the box with the other urn containing Bill's ashes on the floor of the passenger side of the car, along with the vase of black-ribboned roses. All that was left now was to get through the dinner and then she could go home and sleep for a few hours.

Shrill screaming from the fellowship hall met her ears when she got to the church. She knew that voice, and she winced. A yellow cab waited at the entrance to the church. 'I never thought she'd go to that much expense to make trouble!'

Cat ran inside to a nightmare. There was her mother, unkempt and wild-eyed, yelling and screaming at her father while their friends and family looked on in shock and horror. Her father was cowering in a corner, doing his best to keep away from her. Danny was trying to intervene, but the crazed woman was too fast for him to catch her.

Cat lunged forward and succeeded in grabbing one of her mother's arms, spinning her around to face her blazing anger and pain-filled eyes. "How dare you?" she growled angrily, her voice low but clearly audible to the entire room. "What kind person would act like this, today of all days!"

"What do you care? You never call, or write! You turned him against me just as you turned your father against me!" her mother screamed. The woman's face was bright red from her anger and outrage, tears were running down her cheeks.

"You're right. I _don't_ care. Not any more!" Cat replied, taking her mother's arm and pulling her from the room. "Whoever you are, whatever you are, the person who was my mother doesn't exist, and I have no desire to know **you**!" Half pulling, half leading her from the fellowship hall, Cat got her mother back to the taxi and literally threw her into the back seat, slamming the door and locking it.

"Keep your thumb on the door lock the entire way back to her home," she spat at the driver, tossing a pair of twenty dollar bills through the passenger window. "Do not stop anywhere, take her straight to her house," she gave the driver the address.

Her mother wasn't done yet. She fired a parting shot at Cat. "Just wait until you get back to the house. I left you a present to celebrate your being single and unwanted, too!"

"Get the Hell out of here!" Cat yelled, backing from the door. She was breathing heavy, not from exertion, but from stifling her desire to lash out at the chronically mentally ill woman. Hitting wouldn't solve anything, and probably wouldn't make her feel any better, but that urge was there, and it took all her concentration to keep from kicking the cab as it passed her.

"I'm sorry, chick. She got in while I was busy in the kitchen and I couldn't get past the crowd to protect your Dad," June reported from behind her. "He's OK. Are you?"

"No. She's pulled something at the house, I have to go. Now." Fear for the cats was uppermost in her mind. Though her mother had loved cats too, her illness could lead her to do anything to get back at a supposed slight, including harming innocent animals.

"I'll cover for you," June replied, squeezing Cat's hand reassuringly. "Go. Call me as soon as you find out what happened."

Cat squeezed June's hand back and raced to her car, flying out of the parking lot. 'Please, not the furbabies. Anything but that!'

June returned to the fellowship hall, where the guests were beginning to recover from the shock of the episode and murmuring amongst themselves. She rounded up Marcus, Danny, and Geoff.

"Cat's racing home. Her mother might've done something awful there. Go to the house to help her, I'll deal with everyone here. Danny, is Rev. Marshall OK?"

"Just shook up. She didn't land any blows."

June nodded.

Two men, Dave Walker and Larry Griff approached the group. Both were friends of Cat's and were concerned about her hasty exit.

"Is Cat in trouble?" David asked, "If she needs help, I'm coming along."

"Me too," Larry added. "I've had some experience with her mother."

"We'll take my van," Geoff replied indicating with a nod that the other two could come along.

As the men ran to Geoff's van, June moved to the center of the fellowship hall and clapped her hands for attention. "May I have your attention, please?"

All eyes turned to her and the room fell silent.

"Thank you. I have a message from Cat. She apologizes for leaving without a word; she had to return home for an emergency."

Murmurs of sympathy rippled through the room, everyone knew what June meant after witnessing the confrontation between Cat's father and mother and then Cat and her mother.

"She also wanted me to express her apologies that you had to witness that scene. We hadn't planned on her coming here, as the dinner wasn't publicized, and we thought it was safe. I expect to hear something from Cat soon, but she would want us to go ahead with the meal the church has supplied."

Cat's father rose from his chair and announced, "I agree. I'm fine, and Cat wouldn't want us to leave without enjoying the meal her church has made for us."

The church's minister then gave a blessing so the attendees could be served.

Cat knew she was breaking every driving rule in the books, changing lanes at a moment's notice and speeding towards home. All kinds of images were running through her mind. Several irate and surprised driver's flipped the bird at her, but no cops were in the area to pull her over. She wished one was around, just so the cop could go with her to her home and to help prevent her from going after her mother if her fears were real.

She glanced ahead as she pulled onto her street and saw that the garage door was wide open. 'At least the house isn't on fire!' she pulled the car to a stop on the street, grabbed her baseball bat, and ran to the front of the house. She had her cell out and dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"This is Cat McLaughlin, my address is 4118 Manor Dr. My house was broken into, the garage and front door are wide open. I've gotta check on my cats."

She hung up before the operator could respond.

'This is not good,' she thought, hefting the bat and walking softly inside. A sour smell greeted her nose. 'Yup, she's been here all right.'

Cat peeked first in the office. The computer was still intact, but that was the only piece of electronics left. The little TV, the dish receiver, the DVD burner and the DVD/VCR were gone.

She ventured into the living room to find the electronics in that room missing. The library was a mess as books, CDs, records, tapes and DVDs were all over the floor. A check of the music room revealed the entire stereo system and her keyboard was gone, and the guest room had also been ransacked.

'June and Critter will have to check for anything missing,' Cat thought, venturing into the back of the house. The kitchen had been ransacked, though nothing seemed to be missing.

The master bedroom looked like a tornado had hit it. The electronics in that room, including her game systems, had been taken. 'She was certainly busy, don't know how she pulled this off and don't want to know. I just want to find the cats.'

She called for them, and Ebony came running in the open front door, meowing and rubbing against her legs. He seemed none the worse for being outside. "Where are your brother and sister?"

She threw Ebony into the guest bathroom for safety, and resumed looking for Misty and Ming. She knew Misty would've hidden, possibly under the bed. Misty would come out for treats, so she rattled the treat bag, calling for the little cat and her brother.

The sound of her voice brought Misty out of hiding. Cat hugged the little one-eyed feline and threw her into the same bathroom with her big brother. 'Two down, one left to find.'

"Cat, is everything OK?" Danny called from the open front door.

"Hell, no! Mother was busy!"

"Are you sure it was her?" Geoff asked.

"Take a deep breath," she replied grimly. "She was here and pretty well cleaned me out. Ming is still missing."

"Where are the other cats?" Marcus asked.

"ME-OWT!" cried Ebony from behind the bathroom door.

"ME-OWT! NOW!" cried Misty.

The men gave her a relieved grin at the feline answers. There was no doubt about what they wanted.

"You'll get out when I find your brother," Cat replied, tapping on the door.

A police cruiser pulled up to the driveway and a uniformed patrol officer got out. Cat and the men came out to meet him.

"What happened, ma'am?"

Cat quickly explained what had happened at the church, and what she'd found on her return. "As you can see, there's no sign of forced entry to the door. Makes me wonder if she had a key made. Can you go over to her house with me? I want to confront her, and compare my key to any of hers. I'm willing to bet she has my property and my cat."

The patrol officer shook his head. "I have to stay here to fill out the report. You should tell me what's missing, I can have a detective come out as well."

"My step brother can give you the basics, he was at the church and saw most of it, I got her out of there. If you're not willin' to send an officer out to her place, I'm gonna get my stuff back myself!"

She stalked to her car, Geoff climbed into his van. Larry ran after Cat and grabbed her by the arm. "Do you have a set of keys to Bill's car? I'll drive it, and we'll take as much stuff as three vehicles can carry."

She took the key to Bill's Hyundai off her ring and handed it to Larry, then climbed into her car and started across town to her mother's house. As she drove, she called Mrs. York, a good family friend and her mother's landlord, to request that someone from maintenance meet her at her mother's apartment to let her in.

"I saw what happened, honey. I'll have someone meet you there. Be careful. I didn't know she'd gotten this bad."

"She's good at that," Cat replied, switching off the phone. It didn't take long to get to the unit, which was a five story building. Her mother lived on the top floor.

'If she has my stuff, she had to have hired someone to help her. Where in Hell did she get the money? She sure as Hell didn't do this by herself!'

Cat pulled her car around to the back of the building, parking as close as possible to the door that led to her mother's rooms. Geoff and Larry did likewise and followed Cat up the stairs.

The door to her mother's apartment was locked. No surprise there. She pounded on the door and hollered out, "Open the Goddamn door, Mother! You know why I'm here!"

"Go away or I'll call the cops!" her mother screamed.

"Do it! I dare you! Especially when they see you have stolen property in your possession! In fact, I'll call 'em for ya!"

Cat was bluffing, but her mother had no way to know that. The door remained locked. One of Mrs. York's maintenance workers arrived and quickly unlocked the door for her. Cat ran inside and up the stairs, to find Ming in a carrier, crying to be let loose.

"I should've known!" Cat snarled, grabbing the carrier and handing it to Larry. "Take him out to my car, put him in the front on the floor."

She looked around at all her electronic items piled all over. "Geoff, start grabbin' what you can. Mr. Shore," she added to the maintenance worker. "If you'll help, I'll pay you."

"No need," he replied. "Mrs. York asked me to help you in any way possible. Just point out what we need to get."

"You'll find my initials and date of birth etched on the back of my stuff," she replied. "At least the electronics. The games I never got around to markin'."

She turned back to her mother, anger and frustration welling up in her. 'I gotta remember, it's not her fault, it's the mental illness that makes her do these things.'

Her mother returned her stare with a look of wild hatred. June's words of a few days ago came back to Cat. "Mother, I don't know why you feel you have to destroy me. I'm not the enemy just because I did what was necessary for your well being. Do you think I_ like_ havin' to be the bad guy?"

"Yes! You get a kick out of having me locked up for three days at a time! But I'll get even with you. I'll make you regret every time you've ever committed me!"

There was a knock at the downstairs door followed by a shout of "Indianapolis Police! I'm coming up the stairs!"

"It's alright, officer!" Cat cried in reply. "No one's armed!"

"What's going on here? We received a call from the neighbors about a disturbance!" the officer inquired when he reached the top of the stairs, his gun was drawn, but he holstered it when he saw neither woman was armed. His nose wrinkled from the stench of the closed up apartment.

"My daughter broke into my place and she and her friends are robbing me!"

Cat raised her eyes to the Heavens in supplication. "We're actually takin' back what was taken from my house. If you call dispatch, you'll find out that an officer was sent out to my address just a bit ago. I just buried my husband today and my mother created a scene at the church. Apparently she managed to loot my home while I was at the service. Look at the back of the large TV there, and you'll see my initials and date of birth etched on it."

The patrol officer removed a flashlight from his belt and shined it at the back of the TV. "CM, 12/16/1959. That's you?"

Cat pulled out her driver's license to show the officer. He nodded and returned it to her.

"Ma'am?" he politely turned to Mrs. Humphries, Cat's mom. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

Mrs. Humphries remained stubbornly quiet.

Cat spied her mother's keyring on a table, picked it up and found a very new key on it. She took it off the ring and compared it to her house key. The grooves matched. "I won't know for sure until I try this out, but I bet it will fit my door."

"Mrs. McLaughlin, this must be very difficult for you," the officer said, looking between the determined new widow and her mother. "Do you wish to press charges?"

Cat glared at her mother; the idea was tempting. It would be a different experience from the other times she had been taken into custody by police. Those had been court ordered emergency detentions so she could be evaluated and helped. If she pressed charges, her mother would go straight to jail. Jail was not a pleasant experience for a fully functioning person. For her mother, it would be like setting fire to a short fuse attached to a crate of dynamite.

She shook her head. "No. All I want is my stuff back, and for her to leave me alone. She's sick, as you can see, and I can't deal with her any more."

Geoff and Larry had been quietly going up and down the stairs along with the maintenance worker, retrieving Cat's property and loading the cars and van. All three vehicles were nearly full. Everytime the Cruiser's doors opened, Ming let out a plaintive cry of '_ME-OWT_!'

Cat knew knew that some of her books and other items were still there, but wasn't about to try to sift through everything to find them. Those could always be replaced.

"Goodbye, Mother. Have a nice life. I plan to have one without you," Cat said dismissively, turning her back and running down the stairs to the safety of her car.

Her stomach was upset; she felt like she was going to throw up. She leaned against the car, panting and fighting off the nausea, while Ming continued to cry 'ME-OWT!"

Larry and Geoff stood next to her, both gulping in great lungs full of clean air. "Did we get everything?" Geoff asked between deep breaths.

"Dunno. Don't care. Let's get the Hell out of here!" Cat climbed into her car and started the engine, taking a moment to rub Ming's nose, which was pressed against the wire of the carrier door. "Hang in there, little man," she crooned. "You'll be home soon."

"_ME-OWT_!" was his hoarse reply.

She pulled her cellphone out again and dialed June's number. "Cat, everything OK?"

"No, it's not. Tell the immediate family to stay there for a bit. I'll be with them shortly. Gotta meet with the police at the house again, and then we'll be back."

"OK. Be careful."

"Right."

There was an unmarked cop car at her house, along with the marked car. Danny and Marcus had given the police officers all the information they could. The three vehicles parked where they could find space.

Geoff, Larry, David, Marcus and Danny unloaded the vehicles, returning the electronics to the rooms they belonged in and hooking them back up.

Cat removed the extra key from her pocket and tried it in the front door. The key worked perfectly.

"Mrs. McLaughlin, that wasn't the smartest move you could've made," the detective stated.

"At least I got my stuff back. If I'd waited, she could've done anything with it. The most important thing is that I got my other cat back safe and sound. I think y'all will be very interested when you compare notes with the cop that was sent to Mother's house. If y'all don't need me for anything else, there's a dinner I have to get back to."

The detective had completed the investigation in her absence, and since she wasn't going to file charges, there was really nothing more he could do. He handed over a card with his name and telephone number. He'd printed the case number on it. "Call me if you change your mind about filing charges," he said.

"Thank you," Cat replied, shutting the door after him.

She let Ming out of his carrier and then released Ebony and Misty from their confinement. The three rushed around the house, sniffing its' familiar scents and reassuring each other that their world was OK, just a little disheveled.

"Let's get back to the church," she said, opening the front door and allowing the men to file out in front of her. She locked the door and they drove back to the church.

Cat did some serious thinking about her situation on way back to the church. She had no idea what had set her mother off. It could have been brewing for a long time, given the amount of money and time involved.

'Whatever brought this episode about, I'm _not_ livin' with this sword hangin' over my head any longer. I'll put the house up for sale. I can use that and the insurance money to start over somewhere as far away from her as possible.'

The hard part would be getting the family to understand and accept what she had to do. Maybe this episode would help. Whether she had their blessing or not, she was intent on making the change.

Most of the guests had left shortly after the dinner. She really didn't blame them. She'd get letters out to them later with an apology and an explanation of her actions.

Bill's parents, her father, Uncle Mark and Aunt Brandy, Grandma, the Southern Indiana Marshalls and her Uncles Michael and Marion had waited for her. Marcus, Danny and Geoff joined the group.

June and Critter started to leave, but stayed at Cat's request. They needed to hear what she had in mind. June would understand more than anyone Cat's need to put distance between her and the impossible situation. She also asked David and Larry to stay. They'd been good friends, and deserved to hear this straight from her.

"I'm sorry about all the uproar," Cat said when the little gathering was seated around a large table.

"It's not your fault, kitten," her father replied. "You tried your best, but she outsmarted you."

"In more ways than one," she grimly acknowledged. "Somehow, Mother got a key made to the house and she helped herself to everything of value. She had to have hired help to manage it; there's no way she did it on her own. She'd even taken Ming."

"Did you press charges?" Mama Ana asked.

"No."

June was the only person not surprised by the news. There was a moment where everyone was speaking at once, expressing their outrage and shock that Cat hadn't had her mother arrested for theft.

June came to her rescue by holding up her hand for quiet. When the group complied, she said, "It wouldn't have done any good. Mrs. Humphries wouldn't have accepted why she was being punished, just that she was being punished. It would make things worse for Cat in the long run. It's part of the nature of the paranoid schizaphrenic."

Everyone knew of June's background, and that she'd helped Cat many times in dealing with her mother. A gradual acceptance came over the group, but that wasn't to last long.

"What happened today makes it clear that I can't stay in Indiana. Nor can I move to Alabama, Texas, Tennesee, or Florida," Cat added, naming all the states where she had friends and family. "I can't take the chance that she won't go after any of you in order to hurt me. I'm going to move as far as I can as soon as I can."

Stunned silence met her announcement.

Her father looked hurt, but he nodded in acceptance of his daughter's logic. Her in-laws were the most stunned and upset. The idea that Cat didn't want to live anywhere near family upset them more than her mother's behavior.

"Does this mean you're breaking off contact with us?" Ana inquired.

"No, Mama. I just can't put all y'all at risk. I _won't_. She's proved today that nothing is beyond her means. I won't make the mistake of underestimating her again."

"Where will you go, kitten?" Rev. Marshall asked.

"I haven't thought that far yet, Daddy," she admitted. "I'm basically following June's example. Pack, pick a town, and go and take my chances."

"Maybe you can transfer within your company," Uncle Mark offered. "Doesn't it have offices all over the nation?"

"I'm not sure I want to. The money's good, but the hassles aren't worth it. Getting a transfer is getting more difficult with all the outsourcing of work to cheaper countries."

"There's no talking you out of this, is there, sis?" Danny stated.

She shook her head. The discussion was getting hard for her.

"Sometimes a complete change is what is needed. I can relate to that. Moving to Florida was the best thing for me. Indiana had become too painful," June offered. "I think Cat is in that place right now. It's not that she _wants _to move, she _needs_ to do this. Her own mental and physical well-being is at risk if she doesn't."

The family mulled that over, talking amongst themselves. Eventually, each member of the family nodded their acceptance of the idea, even offering to go out to find boxes so they could help pack over the weekend.

Cat half expected her mother to have made another raid in her absence and was relieved to come home to find everything secure. June and Critter checked their bags and found nothing missing.

They helped her straighten up and put things back to rights in the library and other rooms, preparing for the packing party the following day.

"You might not be happy with this, chick, but I called your doctor after you left the church," June explained. "I could tell you were stressed."

"No shit, Sherlock!"

June returned Cat's response with her own version of the 'look'. "Your doctor agreed that you needed additional time off to deal with everything. She's putting you on a leave of absence, citing your PTSS as a cause. The paperwork's already in motion."

Cat embraced her friend. "I appreciate you thinking of that. I have plenty of sick leave built up. Thank you."

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Critter interjected, concern for her mother's friend evident in her voice.

"Not yet, honey. Someplace warm, and someplace west of the Mississipi. I've been South and East."

"How are you gonna decide?" she pressed.

"I dunno, put up a map of the US and throw a dart?"

"Why not?" June replied.

"You've _got_ to kidding me! That was a joke, kittenface!"

"I'm not joking. We can put the map up in the garage, blindfold you, and have you throw a dart. If it lands someplace cold, you can try again."

Cat thought over June's suggestion. 'Why not? Let Fate, Serendipity, whatever it is make the decision.' She got up from the sofa and retrieved a large map of the US from the office. It was one of Bill's, and listed every single city, town, borough, and podunk place on the map. She also grabbed a magnifying glass to see where the dart landed.

"OK," she said. "C'mon, if we're gonna do this, let do it."

June and Critter joined her in the garage, and mounted the map on the far wall. June wound a bandanna around Cat's eyes and then turned Cat around in a circle. "Just make sure I'm pointing at the garage wall, and not the cars!"

"Trust me, Cat. You're dead center of the map. Let it fly."

"Not until I can hear that both of you are behind me," she replied.

"All clear!" June and Critter called out in unison from behind her.

Cat took a deep breath, held up her hand with the dart, aimed, and let fly just a bit to her left. That was because she really didn't want to wind up in some barren place like Oklahoma or Nebraska, where it could still get cold.

"THUNK!"

Cat removed the bandanna, and saw that the dart had landed near the California coastline. Possibly just a little more North than she might've wanted, but not by much.

The women moved to the map and Cat took the magnifying glass from June. The point of the dart was lying in a circle next to a town named 'Charming'.

"Charming, California," June repeated to herself. "Has a promising ring to it."

"Let's Google it!" Critter exclaimed, running into the computer room. She quickly accessed the internet and entered the city name in the computer.

The women read through the information presented on Google, learning that Cat's new home was located in San Joaquin County with a population of close to 15,000. It was located near the Bay Area, Stockton, and the Govenator's home of Sacramento. It was largely a timber and agricultural town, and boasted a mild climate, a toasty 94 degrees in the summer and a mild 61 degrees in the winter.

king middle-class.

"Doesn't sound too bad," Cat observed, reading over Critter's shoulder.

"At least it's warm," June added.

"It's also as far away as I can get from here and still be in the Continental US. Kinda sounds like some of the towns Daddy served. Not really large, but not extremely small."

"How do you plan to get there? And take the cars?" Critter asked.

"I'm going to let the Hyundai go. It's got more miles on it than the _MF6_, and I can't take both. The Hyundai and I fought, anyway. I just haven't gotten around to callin' the bank to take it back yet. As far as gettin' there is concerned, I'm gonna get everything in a rental truck, put the _MF6_ on a trailer, load the cats in their carriers, and drive," Cat added.

"All the way to California?"

"June, it can't be any worse than two women, three cats, and two rats in a 1985 Chrysler Fifth Avenue goin' from Indiana to Florida in the summer!"

"Yeah, but you'll only have the cats for company, won't you?"

"I guess so. Unless you or Critter want to take the time off to make the trip. I'll pay your way to fly back, naturally."

"I'd go in a minute," Critter replied. "But I can't take any more time off work."

"Neither can I," June added sadly. "I accepted a job to start Monday, and have to fly out Sunday night."

"Well, that settles that," Cat replied.

The following day, the relatives showed up to pack boxes and help sort through Bill's things that wouldn't be making the trip. Mama Ana decided to have the urn mailed to her, instead of trying to get it home via the airline. Cat promised to ship it that coming Monday.

The group worked all day, pausing long enough for coffee, potty, and food breaks, and had the house packed up by the end of the afternoon.

Cat treated everyone to dinner at a Korean restaurant she and Bill often frequented on the far East side of town. The restaurant served a main dish along with different appetizers such as dried fish, seaweed, three different versions of _kimche_, dicon radishes, and other delicacies. It was then that Cat announced the name of her new home.

"It certainly sounds like a good omen," her father replied, after mulling the news over for a bit. "It's pretty far, though. What will you do when you get there?"

"Scout the town, see what kind of business venture might work out. BJ has a good idea with her coffeehouse and book exchange, but she struggles in a city like this, especially with the corporate icon in the same plaza. Google didn't indicate whether Charming has such a place, much less corporate entities, but if there isn't, then there will be."

Cat had run a small book store in Terre Haute for a few months and had minored in business management at Vincennes University, so she wasn't going into it blind. Everyone could tell she'd given it some serious consideration and wasn't just jumping in with her eyes wide shut.

"When will you be leaving?" Mama Ana asked.

"As soon as I put the house up for sale, and the insurance companies settle the claims. Possibly by the end of the week. In the meantime, I'm taking a leave of absence from work, and will call 'em once I'm in California to see about a transfer or to resign."

"How will we know you've made it ok?" Aunt Brandy asked.

"I'll keep the cellphone account open until I get settled, same for my email address, the main one. There's also the Facebook page, and I'll post there each night, provided the hotel has a computer."

She turned to her father and added, "It's gonna be hard for ya, not havin' me in the same state, but please understand why I have to do this."

"I do, Kitten. Both sides of the family have let you carry the burden too long. You deserve your freedom, and if this is what you have to do, you have my blessing."

Cat got up and went around the table to embrace her father. She'd miss him, but at least they could still talk by telephone every night, despite the three hour time difference that would eventually be involved.

Though Bill's parents and sister were still a little apprehensive about the change, they, too, added their approval to Cat's decision. "You have to do what's right for you, honey," Mama Ana said.

On Sunday evening, Critter returned to Bloomington and June drove herself to the airport to return her rental and fly back home to Florida.

It was the first time Cat had been left alone in the house since the day she'd spoken to Raj. She wasn't fearful or worried about it. She'd lived alone with only her cats for company before, it wasn't difficult to return to that again. She still had her love for Bill to comfort her, and the years they'd been together.

The following week was busy and productive. She received word from the liability carrier, the Army, and Bill's private life insurance carrier that the claims were settling, and they needed to know where to send the checks. Cat had called her financial advisor early Monday morning and arranged to have the liability and the Army checks deposited with him, so that he could invest them.

The check from the private insurance was deposited in the account she'd shared with Bill, which she converted to her own name. That would give her the money necessary to pay the funeral expenses and move to Charming.

She met with her former landlord, Mrs. York, to discuss her mother's situation and get advice on putting the house up for sale.

"I'm sorry your mother pulled all that on the day of the funeral," Mrs. York said when Cat walked into her office. "We had no idea that she was planning anything."

"Don't worry about it. She's not your responsibility. I need to pick your brain about a realtor. I'm putting the house up for sale and moving to California."

Mrs. York nodded sagely. "I figured you'd do something like that. You need to make the break. Would you be interested in keeping the house and letting me manage it for you?"

Cat shook her head. "I thought about it, but feel it's better to just put it up for sale and not have any ties to it."

Mrs. York started noting some names of people she knew in the business, but she also had an idea brewing in the back of her head.

"I also think it's time to get Mother in a little better situation. That walk up all those stairs isn't easy for her. Do you have anything that is one level, with few neighbors for her to disturb?"

Mrs. York gazed at her with surprise. "You _still_ want to help her after what she did?"

Cat shrugged. "She's still my mother, even if she doesn't act like it. Before I leave, I want to ensure that she's comfortable."

Mrs. York pulled the vacancy list to her and scanned it. She did have one location, a block off a major bus line, four rooms with utilities paid. She usually upped the rent by five dollars a week after a tenant left, but she could afford to keep the rent the same as it was exactly what Mrs. Humphries was currently paying. Mrs. York pointed it out to Cat.

She nodded after reviewing the listing and looking over the picture of the duplex in the listing book. "Looks pretty good. You still have the telephone number for her caseworker. I'd suggest calling her and mentioning the place and the price. They'll be more willing to work with you than with me. If the maintenance staff is willing to do so, I'll pay them to move her."

"I'll do it on one condition, that you agree to sell your house to me. I'll put the money in an account here that we can use for your mother in an emergency."

"It needs some work. I'd not let it go for less than we paid for it."

"What, some carpeting? Wall painting? You've not torn it up, have you?"

Cat laughed. "Hell, no! But I am taking the freezer in the garage."

"Well, if the rest of the appliances are staying, that's fine. It's a good location, and with the community pool, I should be able to get a good family in there with no difficulty."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs. York?"

The older woman nodded. "I'm very sure. It's a good investment for me, and it'll allow you to provide care for your mother without having to worry."

Cat held out her hand. She trusted Mrs. York. She was a savvy businesswoman, and wasn't out to fleece her. She'd live up to her word.

"I'll get the process started, then," Mrs. York said, shaking Cat's hand on the deal. "Call me in a couple of days and we'll sign all the paperwork."

"You've got a deal."

By the end of the week, the papers had been drawn up, Mrs. York had performed a walk through to note what needed to be done, and the papers were signed. The account was opened in Cat's and Mrs. York's names and the house was added to the vacancy listings.

Cat's mother was quickly moved into her new apartment. The caseworker ageed to the move as it would be safer for Mrs. Humphries and the mental health organization didn't have to pay for the move. The caseworker had heard from the police about the incident on the day of Bill's funeral, and was grateful that Cat didn't file charges.

Cat made arrangements for the one way rental and hired the church's youth group to load the truck. She mapped out the best route from Indianapolis to Charming. On moving day, while the cats cried "ME-OWT!" from the bathroom, the youths loaded boxes and furniture into the truck, and also helped Cat get the _MF6_ loaded onto the attached trailer. After the kids left, she made a final walk through to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

There was nothing to show that she and Bill had been there for 15 of their 20 years of marriage. There were places where the paint hadn't faded from all the pictures that had hung on the wall. She'd cleaned and vaccummed the house and washed the windows. The utilities were due to change over to Mrs. York's name that day. The satellite dish would stay, but she was taking her receivers.

She let the cats out of the bathroom and smiled at their cries that sounded like "WHERE?" as if they were asking "Where is Everything! It's all gone!"

She scooped each cat into her arms, hugged them, and then dumped them into their individual carriers, lugging each carrier to the truck, where she placed them on the floor of the passenger side facing the driver. She then brought out the water bottles, food bowls, and other cat necessaries.

Her own care package consisted of her cellphone charger, some tapes, and her trip book. She locked the door for the last time, and handed it to Mrs. York, who'd come out to see her off.

She'd arranged via phone for a post office box in Charming, so her mail would forward after she left. She hoped to get across country in a week's time.

She took one last look at the house, took a deep breath, and climbed into the truck. The cats were crying, and she talked soothingly to them. "We're going on an adventure, kids. It's gonna take time. As Coach Knight infamously said, 'You might as well relax and accept the inevitable'."

She turned the key and the ignition roared to life. As the felines launched into a three part disharmony of '_ME-OWT!_', the truck pulled away from the house, headed to an unknown future and a place she hoped would live up to its' name.


End file.
